Shadow Girl::Book Two: Soul Searching
by xxFiRE FAiRYxx
Summary: I've met someone. There's something about him that draws me to him...And I think I'm falling in love with him. But he holds a secret that could tear us apart. I am my mother's daughter, but I refuse to walk in her footsteps." FINISHED
1. chapter one: jordan

**[Disclaimer: **I didn't put this on the first book, but I probably should've. Anyway, this is a fan fiction based on the series Sweep by Cate Tiernan. Therefore, all the characters in that series (Morgan, Hunter, Bree, ect.) are property of Mrs. Tiernan. Moira is also property of Cate Tiernan; however, I have created Moira's characterization for this series of books. Any other characters that you don't recognize from Sweep (Claire, Jamie, Rusty, ect.) and the plot are property of me. And I think that's it, so, on with the show! Thanks ~Katie**]**

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter One: Jordan]

_            April 2_

_                        Grams and I just got here a few hours ago. I'm sitting in my new room surrounded by a lot of boxes--not the most homey setting. This whole journal thing isn't really my style, but one of my aunts had sent me this really nice one for my birthday, and I thought since I had just moved here, why not start using the journal? Of course Grams gave it The Eye when it came--she hates my aunts and uncles (God knows why)._

_                        So anyway. Widows Vale isn't so bad. Its a lot smaller than Bellmore, and the only body of water we're anywhere near is the Hudson River, so I'm gonna miss the Long Island beaches. After Grams retired from her secretary job, she kept saying how she wanted a bit of small-town life, and I was pretty wary. But now that we're here, I have a good feeling about Widow's Vale. I have a really good feeling._

_                                                                                                --Jordan_

"Moira, are you sure your parents aren't going to flip out?" My best friend, Claire D'Alessio, glanced in my direction as we walked up my front walk. She looked tense and nervous.

            I, on the other hand, felt totally psyched. "Don't worry about it. Even if they _do _flip, which they won't, you're not the one who's gonna get their butt kicked. So chill, would you?"

            "I dunno…"

            I turned towards her and grabbed her shoulders. "Claire. My parents are two very powerful blood witches. They've gone up against a dark wave—and have beaten it. They've seen other witches being stripped of their magick. They witnessed a mother kill her own son. This isn't gonna freak them out, I swear." I walked the rest of the way up to the door, with Claire tagging along reluctantly.

            I unlocked the door and flung it open. "Moooommyyy! Daaaaaddyyyy! Your wonderful daughter is hooooome!" 

            "Hallo, Moira," my dad's English-accented voice sung out, and I could tell he was coming into the living room, where I was. "How was your--" Dad stopped abruptly when he saw me. His face paled, and he said, "Bloody _hell! _What did you do to your _hair?"_

I giggled and twisted a lock of my dark hair, newly streaked with red, around my finger. "Whaat?" I asked innocently. "You no like, Daddy?"

            "It wasn't my idea," Claire said nervously. "Moira said she liked how my hair was and decided to get hers streaked. I had _nothing to do with it!" I smirked at Claire. Her hair was long, pale blonde, and streaked with blue._

            "I'm not blaming you, Claire," Dad said, staring at me with wide green eyes. "It's just…good _God, _Moira…"

            "What's all the commotion down here?" My mom could be heard hopping down the stairs in the kitchen and making her way to the living room. "Whoa," she said, seeing me. She didn't look as surprised as Dad, and there was a sparkle of admiration in her dark hazel eyes, identical to mine. "Well what do we have here?"

            I sniffed towards my dad. "Maybe Mom will appreciate my artistic insight." I looked towards my mom. "You _do _like it, don't you?"

            Mom wore a half-smile on her face. "Huh. I'm having Raven Meltzer flashbacks."

            Claire and I looked at each other. "…Who?"

            Mom just shook her head, saying, "No one, forget it." She ran her fingers through her hair and asked, "So are you staying for dinner, Claire? You're more than welcome to."

            "Come on," I said in a convincing tone of voice. "We're having chicken Morgan."

            Claire stayed with us for dinner, and after that Claire and I flopped down on the couch and began watching my DVD copy of Ice Age. Soon Claire's rainbow-haired sister, Jamie, arrived to pick her up, and we roped her into watching the rest of the movie with us. Jamie did endless Scrat impressions, which made Claire and I fall over each other, laughing. It was well into the night by the time they left. Jamie and Claire were my closest friends, even though we'd only started to hang out a few weeks ago. I'd gone from outcast to the center of their circle of friends in the blink of an eye. And it felt really nice to finally be accepted, to have a normal life.

            Or at least as normal as the daughter of the Woodbane Princess of Belwicket can get.

*  *  *

            "So I'll see you next period?" Claire was standing next to my locker while I put my first half of the day's books in and taking out the second half books.

            "Yeah," I told her. "See you in Global." Ever since my new social butterfly status had formed, I'd spent all of my lunch period hanging out with my new friends—my new coven, actually. It was always fun, but I'd since then realized how much I actually missed the time alone I had. So today I told Claire that I had to study in the library for an upcoming test.

            As I walked down the hall, I saw Courtney Hartford staring at me. I grinned; my hair was up in a ponytail, but the red streaks were very visible and people had been staring at me all day. Courtney had also been acting really humble ever since Rusty had excluded her, Miss Popular Cheerleader, from the party he'd invited me to. What she didn't know was that it ended up being the other partygoers asking me to form a coven with them. I have a feeling that that would change Courtney's view on things. 

            "Hey, Courtney," I called to her. We'd been friends in the past, but Courtney swore that I was a freak of nature the day I made her Barbie fly. Courtney just stared at me with wide clear-blue eyes. I was used to that kind of response.

            Once I got up to the library, I plunked my red backpack on one of the tables and took a chunk of crystal out of one of the outer pockets. The crystal had sat on my mother's dresser forever, and I didn't know what kind of crystal it was. It seemed to change color every time I looked at it, sort of like it was a mood ring or something. Not knowing what kind of crystal it was had been slowly driving me crazy for some time now, so I snatched it off my mom's dresser and brought it to school so I could do some work on it.

            I held the chunk of crystal in my hands and focused on it. Blood witches have the ability to actually "feel" a certain thing's identity. The crystal wasn't giving me a clear answer to this vibe test. My first impression was quartz, but somehow I knew this was wrong. I concentrated on the crystal, trying to feel its identity. I finally came up with beryl, but beryl was usually aquamarine. This crystal changed colors.

            I sent some of my own energy into it, practically begging it to show itself to me. _Tell me what you are. Show me._

Slowly an image began to form inside the crystal. My stomach churned a moment; I'd recently had a bad experience with hearing a deceased relative's voice inside my head. It turned out that Uncle Cal wasn't the most emotionally stable person there ever was, and it had nearly cost me my life. I wasn't too welcoming to the unknown now.

            I saw the face of a teenage boy—_Oh no, not another one—and saw that he looked pretty cute. I could tell his hair was just long enough to really run your fingers through. His smile could easily melt rock-solid chocolate, and my stomach felt strange. But what did this mean?_

            "Hey." I looked up and nearly fell off my chair and screamed, because standing in front of me was the boy I'd just seen in the crystal.

            I stared at him, open-mouthed. His hair was dirty blonde, and sort of swept across his forehead in this messy-but-neat way. He had this small smile on his face, and his eyes…his eyes were like my father's: light green and just…endless. Endless pools of sparkly green light. In case you hadn't noticed, most of my coherent thoughts had fled.

            "Uh…hello?" The kid waved a hand in front of my face. "Are you okay?" I opened my mouth to speak, but instead this weird squeak came out of my mouth. _Oh, you're a brilliant conversationalist, Moira, you really are, _I berated myself. The kid kind of smiled. "Did I scare you or something? Because you're staring at me all weird."

            _Well, there is the fact that I just saw you in a crystal, _I thought to myself. _And then there's the fact that you are the hottest thing to walk the earth. I finally found my voice and said, "No. I mean, yes. I mean, I was really concentrating on…something…"_

            He raised his eyebrows at me. "You were staring at a rock."

            "It's…for science." I had to look away for a second; this growing desire to jump on the kid was getting to be like a monkey screeching on my back. "So, you must be new here. I haven't seen you around." _I would have definitely remembered you, I added in my mind._

            "Yeah, I just moved here," he told me. "My name's Jordan. Jordan O'Brien."

            "Hi," I said. "I'm Moira Riordan-Niall." Yuck. I hated my name. Hate, hate, hate…

            "Moira," he repeated. "That's pretty."

            My name was the best name in the entire world. "Thanks. Jordan's a pretty name, too. Well, I mean, not _pretty, since you're a guy, but…it's nice." Why didn't I just get the words "SOCIALLY INEPT" tattooed on my forehead?_

            Jordan just grinned. "Well thanks. I'm quite fond of it myself." He slid into the seat across from me. "Nice hair."

            I grinned. "My pride and joy. Dad was so excited when he saw it." Jordan leaned his head back and laughed as I imitated my father's reaction from the day before. "My mom was more cool about it."

            "That's cool," Jordan said. He drummed his fingers on the table for a minute, looking at me, into my eyes. I looked down and away, then flicked my eyes back up to him. He was still staring.

            "So," I said, trying to get a conversation going.

            "That's a pretty necklace," Jordan said, and my stomach lurched. I clasped my hand around the small, delicate silver pentacle that hung on a silver chain around my neck. I couldn't tell if he knew that it was a symbol of my belief in Wicca, the proof that I was a witch. He seemed clueless of the significance.

            "Um, thanks."

            "What is it, from Tiffany's?"

            I snorted, trying to picture Tiffany & Co. carrying Wiccan paraphernalia. "No, not exactly." 

            "Oh." Jordan kept looking at my necklace, and it gave me the chills. I nonchalantly slipped the chain under my shirt, and said, "So, where did you come here from?"

            "Long Island," he told me. 

            "Oh, cool," I said. "My aunt Mary K. lives on Long Island, on the north shore."

            "Ah. I lived on the south shore, with my Grams."

            "Oh." I shifted uncomfortably, and asked, "Are your parents…"

            "Yeah," he said quietly. "They died when I was a baby. Car accident."

            "I'm sorry." There was a silence where we just looked at each other. Then the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. We stood up, gathering our things. I noticed that Jordan was slightly taller than me.

            "Well, it was nice meeting you, Moira," Jordan said, looking into my eyes again. My knees nearly buckled, and I held onto the back of the chair for support.

            "Bye, Jordan," I said, watching him walk out of the room. "Whoa," I whispered to myself. I could already tell that Jordan O'Brien was one of a kind.

*  *  *

            The rest of my day was spent thinking about Jordan. I'm not usually the type of girl to get all crazy about a cute boy, but something about Jordan got me completely hooked. How he seemed so interested in my necklace, though he had no idea about its significance. How his eyes seemed to penetrate mine, and it was like he was seeing much more than just a skinny fourteen-year-old girl. And especially how I'd seen his image in my mother's crystal.

            In Global studies, Mr. Crandon was teaching us about ancient China, and my mind was completely tuned out of the lesson. I sit in the last seat in the middle row, and I had my head leaning against the window sill behind me, staring up at the ceiling and thinking, _Jordan, Jordan, Jordan…_

"Moira?" Mr. Crandon tried to get my attention. "Could you answer my question?"

            "Jordan," I murmured, still staring up at the ceiling in my own little world.

            "All right, you heard her: The main export of ancient China was Jordan." My head snapped up at the sound of laughter, and I was jerked back to reality. Mr. Crandon had an amused smile on his face. "Okay, Moira, I'll give you another chance to answer the question correctly."

            "…Silk?" I tried. I was aware of Claire giving me these weird looks.

            He nodded. "Good. Now can you please try to stay with us?" I nodded, my face burning with embarrassment. I'd been caught zoning out in class, because I was thinking about a _boy. _This was pathetic. I forced myself to focus on the lesson.

            At the end of class, Claire grabbed my arm. "Okay, who's Jordan?"

            I just blinked at her. I couldn't sum up everything that happened in the library in four minutes. "I'll tell you later," I promised her over my shoulder, running to my next class.

            After school, Claire was waiting by my locker. As we walked out of the school together, I told her about my mom's crystal, what I'd seen inside it, and my conversation with Jordan. "And he's just so friggen _gorgeous," I was saying as we sat down on a bench outside the school. "He was staring at me in this really weird way, and I made a total idiot of myself because I have __no social skills, and I don't think he'll ever talk to me again but I can't stop thinking about him." I realized I'd been babbling, and quickly shut up._

            Claire considered this. "Sounds pretty interesting—and creepy. Don't you ever have a normal day?" Claire was the only one of my friends who I'd told about my Cal problem, and so far the only person I planned on telling about seeing Jordan in the crystal. I had complete trust in her when it came to my weird witch life, and she often had good advice. 

            "Apparently not." I thought about Jordan a little more, and ended up with a goofy smile on my face. "Ah, I can't stop _thinking about him. He's just so…perfect."_

            Claire snorted. "You met him a few hours ago. Chill out, would you?"

            "Who are you guys talking about?" Arianna Waters asked, walking up to us. She's a year older than Claire and I, and another member of our coven.

            "The new kid," I told her. "Jordan O'Brien."

            "Oh, he's in some of my classes," Arianna told us, dropping her backpack on the ground next to the bench.

            "_Mrs. _O'Brien over here can't stop talking about him," Claire smirked, and I shoved her lightly.

            Arianna grinned. "You're not the only one. I suspect the pep squad will be creating a cheer for him any day now."

            "Really?" My face fell. Witch or not, there was no way I could compete with cheerleaders.

            "Yeah." Arianna looked around and said, "There he is now," pointing him out.

            My breath caught in my chest as I sought him out with my eyes. Unattainable or not, he was a sight to see.

            Beside me Claire snorted. "_That's the almighty Jordan O'Brien?"_

            "Yeah! What, you don't think he's cute?" I asked her.

            "No."

            "…There's something wrong with you."

            "Au contraire, ma copine," Claire said, showing off her French skills.

            "Why don't you call him over?" Arianna asked me.

            I gave her a wide-eyed stare. "_Me? Call him over _here? _Are you nuts?"_

            "What? You're not scared, are you?" Arianna's aqua-blue eyes gleamed as she smirked at me.

            My eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm not scared. I just don't want to make a complete spaz of myself." We had a staring contest for a few minutes, then I said, "Fine." I stood up to look for Jordan again. When I spotted him, I yelled, "Jordan!"

            He looked up from where he was standing, and smiled when he saw me. I waved him over and sat back down on the bench. "Hey, Moira," Jordan said when he came over.

            "Hey," I replied, smiling. "These are my friends, Claire D'Alessio and Arianna Waters."

            "Hi," they said politely, and Arianna added, "We have science and English together, right?"

            Jordan nodded. "Nice to meet you guys." Then his eyes floated back to me.  I didn't get why he was always staring at me. I mean, Claire looked like a fairytale princess gone punk, and Arianna was wearing fishnets on her arms. What was so special about me? I met his gaze and just held it for a few minutes.

            "So," I said. "How was your first day?"

            "It was good," Jordan said. "This place seems cool." I silently wondered how long it would take him before he found out from someone that I was a witch, and about all the freaky stuff that happened at Widow's Vale High School because of me.

            "So, a bunch of us are getting together on Saturday at Moira's house," Arianna told him. "Wanna come?"

            Apparently not long.

            I tried not to glare at Arianna so noticeably as I thought, _These aren't just hang out sessions. These are Wiccan circles, and you cannot just ask the hot new kid if he wants to join us for a Wiccan circle! _

"That sounds great," Jordan said. "I'll be there. That is, if Moira wants me to come," he added, looking over at me.

            "Oh! Sure! That would be great! I'd love if you could come," I told him, forcing a big smile. I tried to convince myself that it would all work out, that the first boy I'd ever fallen for wouldn't be permanently terrified of me when he finds out he's been invited to a witch fest.

            Jordan smiled at me. "Cool. So I'll see you tomorrow? I have to go soon so Grams doesn't worry." He grinned wryly. "You know how grandmothers are." He walked away, passing Jamie as he left. Jamie checked him out as he went by.

            "Wow," Jamie said, watching Jordan leave. "Who bagged the cutie?"

            "Moira," Arianna and Claire said.

"I did not _bag _him," I protested.

"I can't believe you think he's cute, too," Claire told her, ignoring me.

            "Of course he's cute!" Jamie told her. "He's gorgeous!"

            "Is not!" Claire said with disgust.

            Jamie just stared at her younger sister. "Sometimes I wonder how we could be sisters."

            "As do I, Scrat," Claire replied, indicating Jamie's rainbow hair. I started giggling uncontrollably, and we walked to Jamie's car laughing. We drove to Arianna's house, and I spent the whole car ride thinking about Jordan O'Brien.

            And about why I saw him in the crystal.


	2. chapter two: first impressions

**[Author's Note: **Hey everyone! Sorry that it took so long for this to be written—I was away at summer camp for two weeks, and I hadn't even started chapter two. But I hope you enjoy it now. The disclaimer is on the first chapter: I own only the characters you don't recognize from the book series Sweep and the plot. The rest is property of Cate Tiernan. Please don't sue. Thanks! ~Katie**]**

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter Two: First Impressions]

      _April 5_

_                        Today was my first day at Widow's Vale High—not bad. The teachers seem okay, kids are okay. I even sort of made a friend. I met Moira in the library, and honestly, at first she seemed a little weird—she was staring at a rock, for God's sake. But, she seemed interesting, so intense and striking. So I went over and said hi. I think I scared her, though, because she kind of jumped and looked at me like I had two heads. But once we started talking, it was cool. Moira's really nice...kind of cute, too. She has a really nice smile, and her hair had red streaks in it—it looks awesome. And she had this necklace…I don't know why I thought it was so interesting. It was just a star in a circle. But I couldn't help but stare at it. I think that made Moira uncomfortable. I saw her after school with some of her friends, and I ended up getting invited to Moira's house on Saturday. I'm really looking forward to it._

_                        Gotta go, Grams is calling me to dinner._

_                                                                                    --__Jordan___

I got home from Arianna's house around five-thirty. My mom was sitting on the couch watching a talk show. When I walked in, she smiled at me and said, "Hey, sweetie. Did you have fun?"

            "Yeah," I told her, biting my lip. Then I sat down next to her, took the crystal out of my backpack, and asked her, "What the hell is this?"

            Mom looked at the stone in my hand.  "What are you doing with that?" she asked me slowly, and immediately I felt a little guilty. I _had stolen it from her, after all._

            "I was just trying to figure out what it was," I said innocently. "And…I couldn't. I kept trying to get something out of it, but nothing came.  I just got…mixed signals." Mom drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, a sign that she was intrigued. "So I sent some energy into it, like trying to jumpstart it, you know?" I continued. "And I saw…this _kid. _This gorgeous _kid _in the crystal, and it wasn't even like I was trying to scry or anything. And _then I hear someone say 'Hi,' and I look, and it's __that kid!"_

My mom's eyebrows flew up. "Oh, really?"

            "Yeah! And he's even more gorgeous in person, and I'm all"—here I rubbed my finger against my lips and made noises while my mom laughed—"and he's just being cool about it, acting like I'm not a total loser, and…and…I wanna know what that scary crystal thingy is!" I told her, brandishing a finger at the now light pink stone.

            Mom grinned. "Well, Moira, this 'scary crystal thingy' happens to be my name stone: Morganite."

            I raised my eyebrow. "Morganite?"

            "Yes. It's a form of beryl. It changes color with the sunlight—sometimes it's pink, sometimes white, sometimes lavender. It's a healing stone, but that's not its only property." She leaned close to me, like we were little girls sharing secrets. "If a blood witch holds morganite and sends energy into it, it shows an image of what is deepest in his or her heart. Here, I'll show you." Mom held her crystal in her hands and concentrated. Soon I saw an image of my father in the crystal, then of me.

            "But, wouldn't I have to know him first, for him to be deepest in my heart?" I asked. "I mean, I've never seen Jordan before."

            "Well, you have extraordinary power," Mom said pensively. "Maybe, when you sent your energy into the crystal, it also inadvertently showed you a premonition of your múirn bea--"

            "Ooh, no, do not even _say _it because you _know I don't believe in that stuff," I told her, standing up from the couch. In Wicca, there's a belief that everyone has a soul mate, someone that they're meant to be with forever. The Wiccan term is múirn beatha dán, and I don't believe in it. My parents say that they're múirn beatha dáns, and I think it's nice that they love each other and feel that they were meant to be together, but I just can't see the possibility of everyone having a certain person they're supposed to be with for the rest of their lives. It just seems so stupid._

            Mom just grinned. "You'll see in time, Moira. You'll find your múirn beatha dán."

            "La-la-la-_la, I can't __hear you!" I told her rather obnoxiously, holding my hands over my ears and stomping upstairs. I could hear my mother laughing downstairs, and I smiled. Then I went into my room and called Claire, telling her everything that my mom had told me. She teased me about the múirn beatha dán thing for a while until I threatened to hang up on her._

*  *  *

            The next day at school, I was putting my books into my locker when my senses prickled. I smiled as I felt Jordan's presence coming towards me. Soon, he was right next to me, and he knocked on my open locker door.

            Unfortunately, when he did that, it swung forward and hit me hard in the left temple.

            "Oh, Moira, I'm so sorry," Jordan apologized as I clutched my head, moaning in pain. "Are you okay? Here, let me look at it." He gently took my head in his hands and looked at the bump forming. My skin felt tingly where Jordan was touching it. "Hmm. You'll probably just get a bruise. Sorry about that."

            "It's okay." We stood there staring at each other for a few moments. Then I asked, "So is there a reason why you nearly gave me a concussion?" 

            "Oh, yeah," Jordan said, shaking his head a little. Some of his dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes, and he flicked it away. I tried to manage the drool problem I was developing. "Well, I'm supposed to go to your house on Saturday, right? Well, I don't really know where you _live, _so…"

            "Oh yeah. I'll give you my address right now," I told him, getting some paper out of my backpack. I was still a little nervous about him coming to the circle. It's always hard when you know that someone is about to find out you have the power to do unnatural things, like kindle fires with your mind and see the object of your affection in a crystal. I scribbled my street address down on the paper and handed it to him. "There you go." Jordan smiled and was about to leave when I blurted, "Do you want my phone number too?"

            He looked back at me, eyebrows slightly raised. "I mean, if you get lost on the way to my house, or something," I said quickly, heat radiating off my cheeks. "Or, you know, if you ever need anything, anything at all…"

            Jordan smiled at me, and in that instant I felt like time around us had stopped. All the sounds of other kids shuffling around and yelling to each other faded away, there were no walls, no school, nothing but Jordan and I, in our own little universe. "Sure," Jordan said. "I'd like that."

            I added my number onto the piece of paper, and said, "So, I'll see you around. Maybe at lunch?"

            Jordan nodded, his eyes locked on mine. "That would be great. I'll see you then." And he walked away, and it was as if a glow surrounding him. I gazed stupidly at his retreating back, still feeling like the rest of the world didn't exist.

            Someone grabbed my arm and whirled me around, pulling me out of my dreamy state. I was suddenly looking into a pair of clear blue eyes. "Whoa, Courtney, you've _got tostop doing that," I told her, being reminded of the day Rusty McDown invited me to a party and excluded Courtney._

            Her blue eyes looked frantic. "Did Jordan O'Brien just say that he would be at _your _house on Saturday?!" she squeaked, clutching my arm.

            "Um, yes?"

            Soon, I was surrounded by the Widow's Vale High cheerleading squad, one of the scariest situations I've ever been in. "I can't believe a hottie like that would be talking to _you," Roxie Anderson said obnoxiously._

            "It's obviously not because of her looks," Jess Parker reasoned, but I tended to disagree. I might be freakishly tall and undeveloped, but Jordan liked my red-streaked hair.

            "What did you do, put some sort of _spell on him?" Angie Martin spat._

            "I bet he doesn't even know how much of a freak you are," Ashley Ballard, the squad captain, told me, splitting the crowd by walking purposefully toward me. "Not yet, anyway. But he will, and when he does, he isn't going to want anything to do with you." She smiled sardonically at me. "Enjoy your spot in the limelight while it lasts, witch."

            I matched Ashley's gaze evenly. "I'm not afraid of you, Ashley. And when I do tell Jordan who I am, I don't think he's going to care." I sounded a lot more confident than I really felt. I walked away from the group of cheerleaders, trying to quiet the worries inside me.

*  *  *

            At lunch, I kept a close lookout for Jordan. When I saw him walk into the cafeteria, I stood up and yelled, "Jordan! Over here!"

            At the same time, Ashley Ballard did the same thing.

            But Jordan's eyes met mine, and he smiled at walked over to our table. I looked over at the cheerleader table and smirked at Ashley's dumbstruck expression. Courtney was beside her, watching the scene with round eyes. She and I were sort of witnessing the same Apocalypse—the end of a world where she was popular and I wasn't. If things kept going at the pace they were at, she and I might even be equals at some point. Scary thought.

            "Hey, Moira," Jordan said to me, sitting in a chair across from mine. He looked around the table at everyone else. "Hey…guys…"

            "Jordan, these are my friends," I told him. Then I pointed them each out and said their name: "Claire, Arianna, PJ, Jamie, Mike, and Rusty." As I pointed out Rusty, I had to do a double take. Rusty was _glaring. He wasn't even doing it subtly. His brown eyes were shooting invisible lasers at Jordan, who looked friendly enough at the moment._

            Either Jordan was ignoring Rusty's unfriendliness or he didn't notice, because he seemed perfectly at ease. "Jordan just moved here a few days ago," I told my friends, giving Jordan a small smile.

            He grinned back at me. "I'll be right back, I have to go get my lunch." And he left, leaving his stuff on the table. I could see the cheerleaders stare at him as he passed by.

            Suddenly Rusty was leaning in close to me. "Since when is Stellaluna the Widow's Vale Welcome Wagon?" he hissed at me. Stellaluna is the name of our coven.

            I could only stare. Rusty eventually stood up and walked out of the lunchroom, taking his stuff with him. "Whoa," I commented. "Fros-_ty.__ What's with Rusty?"_

            The females seated at the table rolled their eyes. "Honestly, Moira," Claire said. "You're not gonna ignore the whole Rusty thing forever, are you?"

            "What are you talking about?" I asked her, even though I knew perfectly well what she was talking about.

            "Duh. Rusty _likes you," Jamie said matter-of-factly._

            "Ugh. Girl talk," PJ complained. "I'm out of here."

            "I'm with you," Mike told him, and the two left.

            "Aw, now look what you did," I told my remaining friends. "You're scaring people off."

            "You know we're right," Arianna told me. "Rusty's got feelings for you. And now he sees you inviting some other good-looking guy to sit with us, and he's jealous."

            "You're insane," I scoffed, even though I knew they were making sense. I just couldn't wrap my mind around a seventeen year old ever looking at me, a fourteen year old who wouldn't be fifteen until the summer, as more than a friend.

            At this point, Jordan had returned. "…Weren't there three other people sitting here when I left?" he asked, looking at me.

            "Well, you know how girls supposedly cannot go to the bathroom without being surrounded by five of their closest friends? In Widow's Vale, the same holds true for guys." I didn't know where that bit of witticism came from, but Jordan laughed and I smiled, and my friends kind of looked at each other bewilderedly.

            "Sickening. Purely sickening," Claire muttered. I kicked her under the table.


	3. chapter three: circle

**[Author's Note: **Hey everyone! I got chapter three all retyped, and I totally made up for it—it's one of the longest chapters I've written so far in the whole series. So, you know the drill, everything you recognize from the book series Sweep is property of Cate Tiernan, everything else is mine, blah, blah, blah. I think I've kept you waiting long enough. Enjoy! –Katie**]**

****

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter Three: Circle]

      _April 8th_

_                        I asked this kid who sits next to me in band, Derek Boles, if he knew anything about Moira. He got this weird look on his face, a mix between anger and fear, and asked, "Why do you want to know about that witch?" I was surprised—Not only do I not think that Moira's a bad person, but what's with the witch thing?_

_                        Later that day this cheerleader Ashley Ballard invited me to a party tomorrow, which is Saturday. When I told her I already had plans, she said, "Oh, right. With Moira." She said it kind of strangely, so I asked her what she had against Moira. "You'll see," she told me. "You'll learn all about the secrets that little witch keeps."_

_                        So is Widow's Vale such a quaint little town that the kids don't dare use the b-word? Or is there something a lot weirder than Pleasantville purity going on here? I guess I'll find out on Saturday._

_                                                                                                --__Jordan___

The day of the circle, I was beyond nervous. Today Jordan would find out the truth about me. He'd find out that I was a witch. I paced around the living room in the cute pajama outfit my aunt Mary K. had bought me for my birthday. It was only ten in the morning, but I was already worried.

            "Moira, sit down, would you?" my mother finally told me. "You're making _me _nervous." She paused, thinking, and then she asked, "Why exactly _are you nervous? You've had circles with these kids before."_

            "I know. But…Jordan's coming to the circle, only he doesn't really know it yet."

            "Um, run that by me again?"

            I sighed. "I mean, he _knows _that he's coming to our house. But he thinks that a bunch of us are just hanging out. He doesn't know that there's going to be a Wiccan circle."

            Mom pursed her lips. "Moira, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be inviting people to Wiccan circles and not telling them."

            "I know, and I didn't mean to, but all of a sudden Arianna's inviting him and I couldn't say no." I sighed again and sat down on the couch. "I know this is bad. But it all happened so fast, and I couldn't find time during school to ask him, 'Hey, I'm a witch, does that bother you?'."

            Mom smiled a little bit. "Well, I guess you'll have to take time tonight to tell Jordan the truth. Oh, and don't tell your father about this; he'll have your head."

            "Yeah, I know." I played with a strand of my hair, biting my lip. "I'm so nervous."

            My mother smiled at me. "You really like Jordan, don't you?"

            I reclined on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "Jordan isn't like any other guy I know. I mean, that day in the library, there were a lot of other people there. But he chose to talk to _me_. And yeah, I _had to be getting a vision of him in a crystal at the time, but still. He came over and willingly had a conversation with me. He's coming to my house and he barely knows anything about me. Jordan _ditched _the cheerleaders to sit with me at lunch. Not many guys are about to do that." I sighed. "And now I have to take the risk that he'll run away from me when I tell him I'm a witch."_

            Mom looked at me sympathetically. "I know, honey. But you have to have faith that it'll all work out."

            I gave her a wry smile. "Easier said than done."

            Mom gave me one last small smile and left the room, saying, "Dad and I have to go run a few errands, and then we're going straight to the Sharps' for the circle. Have fun tonight."

            "I will, thanks." I spent the rest of the morning going over the lesson plan my dad forced me to write out. Tonight I would teach the coven about the four elements. I also worked on some homework and watched some television while waiting around at my house. Around five, there was a knock on my door.

            I opened the door to reveal the D'Alessio sisters. The stared at me for a few minutes, then Claire said, "I told you it would be a good idea to come early, Jamie."

            I blinked. "What?"

            "You're still in your PJs, that's what!" Jamie exclaimed.

            "…So?"

            "Moira, the object of your affection is going to be here, at your house, in an hour," Claire said, inviting herself and Jamie into my living room. "Therefore, you should have been getting ready a long time ago. You, my friend, need a lot of help, and even though I still can't fathom why you're even interested, we are here to help."

            I led them up the stairs to my room, where they picked through my closet and Jamie complained about my clothes selection ("Are all you have dark colors?"). They finally settled on a blood-red blouse with flowing slit sleeves, paired with dark low-rise jeans. Next was my hair. The sisters had been bickering for ten minutes on what style to do it in when I asked if my vote counted, since it was my hair and all. We all decided on low pigtails, which looked cute on me. Then they got their paws on my makeup and attacked me with my eyeliner. When they finally let my face go, my eyes looked a lot darker, more mysterious. I kind of liked it.

            By that time it was five minutes to six. Claire and Jamie helped me set up the circle room for that night, and soon people began to arrive. Including Jordan.

            I knew it was Jordan before he even rang the doorbell. My stomach twisted in uneasy knots as I opened the door. When Jordan saw me, his face broke into a dazzling smile. "Hey."

            "Hey," I replied. In my mind I saw myself falling over. But I managed to keep myself in the upright position. I looked around Jordan for a car. "Did your grandmother drive you here?"

            "Nah, I walked."

            I was surprised. "Really? How far is your house from here?"

            He shrugged. "Not that far. Just a couple of blocks."

            "Oh, cool." I led him into the living room, where my friends had cranked up the stereo. Jordan and I sat on the couch and started talking. A few minutes into the conversation, my mother's gray cat, Dagda, scampered into the living room and leapt up onto Jordan's lap, purring contently. This made me absurdly happy. Lately I've felt that Dagda has a sixth sense, one for perceiving dangerous vibes. When I was being haunted by my late uncle, Dagda either avoided me or gave me an attitude, like I was untrustworthy. I'm guessing it's because he could sense Cal's presence and he knew I had something to do with it. The fact that he so willingly accepted Jordan made me feel even more comfortable with him.

            I must have gotten really deep into mine and Jordan's conversation, because suddenly Claire was lightly rapping my forehead with her fist. "Hello? The doorbell's ringing."

            I blinked at her.

            She blinked back.

            I blinked again.

            "You're pathetic!" Claire informed me emphatically, and she gave Jordan a pointed look. I simply shrugged and turned back to Jordan, who had been watching the exchange with an amused smile.

            We went back to our conversation, which was whether or not quadratics would ever come up in real life ("Just because you're failing, Moira…" "Shut up, Jordan."). A few minutes later, we were interrupted by a deep voice asking, "What's he doing here?"

            I looked up from Jordan to see Rusty, looking genuinely pissed. "I said, what's he doing here?" he repeated when I looked at him with a blank expression.

            "Jordan was invited here," I said quietly.

            "He's not part of the coven," Rusty pointed out, an edge of accusation in his voice.

            "Coven?" My insides froze as I turned to look at Jordan, whose face looked confused. "What's he talking about? What's a coven?"

            "He doesn't even know what a coven is," Rusty scoffed.

            I stammered a moment, not knowing where to begin. "Moira, what's he talking about?" Jordan asked me again, searching me with his eyes.

            I took a deep breath. "Jordan, would you come into the kitchen with me? I need to explain some stuff."

            Jordan nodded and set Dagda on the floor. I led him into the kitchen, dreading the upcoming conversation. I was facing the counter, trying to gather my thoughts, when Jordan said, "What's going on? What was Rusty talking about, Moira?"

            I exhaled and turned around to face Jordan. "Listen, when Arianna invited you over here, she left out something. A big something." I looked into Jordan's eyes, dark into light. "Jordan, I…we're Wiccan. We practice Wicca. Tonight's a coven meeting, and a coven is a group of Wiccans who practice the craft together. Witchcraft. And," I said as Jordan's eyes grew a little wider, "Wicca's not all that the bad publicity says it is. It's not devil worship, and we don't do animal sacrifices, and…" I trailed off as I looked up into Jordan's confused eyes.

            "So that's what they meant," he murmured to himself.

            My brow furrowed. "What?"

            Jordan just looked at me. "Well, I was asking people about you, and everyone I talked to called you a witch. I guess they really meant…a _witch…"_

"Oh," I said, trying to resist asking him, _You__ were asking about me? Jordan still looked a little wary, so I looked down at the floor and said, "Look, we're probably just gonna hang out before we do any real Wicca stuff, so if you just wanna stay until the circle, that would be fine. Or, if you really just want to leave now, that's fine, too." I looked back up at him. "But I would really like it if you could stay. Doing a circle with us doesn't mean you'd be going against your religion, it really wouldn't. But," I backpedaled quickly, "If you really don't feel comfortable, I'll understand." _I'll understand that my life is total crap, _I added pessimistically inside my head._

            Jordan looked into my eyes for a few moments. Then, he gave me a very small half-smile, and my heart fluttered. "Actually," he said, "I think I'm gonna stay for it." _YES! _my mind screamed. _My life isn't total crap! _"I mean, it sounds okay. I trust you about the whole non-Satan-worshipping thing. So, why not just try it once?"

            "Yeah," I said. "Why not?" We stood there for a few moments, until I said, "I guess we better go back inside."

            I had turned to leave the kitchen when I felt Jordan's hand on my arm. "Moira." I slowly turned to look back at him, shivering slightly at his touch. "I just wanted to tell you," he said quietly, "that you look really nice tonight."

            Every nuance of intelligence was immediately erased from my mind. Once again I felt as if we were the only two people in the universe, and I was lost in Jordan's green eyes. Jordan slid his hand down my arm so he held my hand in his. Smiling, he said, "Come on." I bit back a giggle as he pulled me towards the living room.

            Rusty looked like he was ready to shoot someone when he saw Jordan and I walk into the room, with Jordan holding my hand. Claire looked like she wouldn't mind being the recipient of that bullet. I just laughed and told everyone that it was time for the circle.

            I led them all into the large circle room that my parents always use for their coven meetings with Kithic. It's roomy and doesn't have much furniture to move out of the way, and has everything that any witch would need for a circle. I gathered a bunch of things into the center of the circle, and gathered the coven and Jordan into the center, while I drew a chalk circle on the floor around us. "Mike, PJ, would you purify our circle, please?" I asked.

            I handed each of them a bowl of salt, and they each sprinkled salt on one half of the circle, saying, "With this salt, I purify our circle." Jordan watched all of this with interest.

            Everyone moved out to sit just within the boundaries of the circle, except for me. I stood in the middle, where my supplies were. "Tonight, we're going to learn about the four elements: earth, water, air and fire."

            "Watch out, Jordan," Arianna told him from across the circle. "This is when Moira can start sounding like a boring old teacher."

            I had to laugh with everyone else. "Shut it, Ari. I promise that I won't sound like a textbook, okay?" I picked up a silver bowl filled with sand, and placed it in the north position within the circle. "This bowl of sand represents the element earth. It's feminine and nourishing, which is probably where people got the saying Mother Nature. Each element has other things connected to it, like colors, zodiac signs, and runes, which we'll cover at a different circle. The color green is associated with earth, and the earth signs are Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn."

            Next, I took another bowl of sand with a stick of incense stuck into it. I almost lit it with my mind, but decided against it and also picked up a box of matches. Letting Jordan know that I was Wiccan was one thing; showing him that I had freaky, unnatural powers was another. I lit the incense and said, "This represents the element air." I placed it at the east side of the circle, saying, "Air is for communication, the mind, and the intellect. Its color is yellow. The air signs are Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius." I glanced over at Jordan. "Asleep yet?"

            Jordan shook his head, grinning. "Not at all."

            "Cool." I took a tall, black candle and put it at the south end. "Fire," I said, striking a match and lighting the candle. "It's a strong element, symbolizing transformation, success. Passion." I couldn't help but glance at Jordan again. He looked right back at me, into my eyes, staring intently. I paused for a moment, almost getting into that dreamy only-people-in-the-universe feeling again, but then I heard Rusty clear his throat loudly, and I shook my head and continued with the lesson. "The color associated with fire is, of course, red, and the fire signs are Aries, Sagittarius, and Leo."

            The last was a bowl of water, and I placed it at the west position. "Water is the last element, for the emotions, and for love, healing and beauty. Its color is blue, and the water signs are Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces." I wiped my hands on my jeans and said, "Okay, let's all join hands."

            Jamie indicated a spot she'd saved for me, between her and Jordan. I took both their hands, worried that my hands would feel sweaty and disgusting to Jordan. His hands were soft and warm, and slightly bigger than mine. "First, close your eyes and focus your thoughts. Release every negative feeling, and breathe in and out slowly. Tonight we're going to do a focusing and purifying circle," I told them, and I began moving the circle clockwise. I began saying a basic chant, which would be easy to catch on to.

_Water, cleanse us_

_Air, purify us_

_Fire, make us whole _

_Earth, center us_

Soon, the others in the circle began chanting with me, and we picked up speed, chanting louder. I could feel energy growing within the circle, could feel my own magick beginning to take me away. There was magick all around us, and it was wonderful. We all stopped at the same time, throwing our hands into the air. "Send the cleansing energy into yourselves!" I told the coven, pressing my own fist to my chest. The familiar yet always amazing feeling of magick whooshed into me. Next to me, Jordan was panting hard, and when I looked at him, he was rubbing his temples lightly. "Jordan? Are you okay?"

            "Yeah," he said, putting his hands down and looking at me. "I'm fine. Just dizzy."

            "Everyone, sit down and ground yourselves," I said, sitting down cross-legged in the circle. "Just let yourselves calm down."

            Everyone sat down. "I think I actually felt something," Rusty said, looking directly at me. 

            "Really?" I asked. "That's great. Did anyone else feel anything?" Most of the others shrugged without really answering. "Don't worry about it," I said. "Some people are more sensitive than others. It's surprising that even Rusty felt anything this early."

            Rusty gave me a small, proud smile, and then he said, "I've been reading about the Seven Great Clans of Wicca. Do you think you could tell us more about that?"

            "Sure," I said, though uneasiness crept through me. If we got into a discussion about the clans of Wicca, would that lead to Jordan finding out my bloodlines? I knew that he would find out sooner or later, but I preferred it to be later. I unfolded my legs and sat with my knees up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. "A long, long time ago--"

            "In a galaxy far, far away," Jamie cut in, making everyone laugh.

            "No, actually it was this galaxy," I said, grinning. "Before Christianity and even Judaism, there was Wicca. Some people who practiced Wicca called themselves blood witches, descendants of the Seven Great Clans: Rowanwand, Burnhide, Vikroth, Brightendale, Wyndenkell, Leapvaughn, and Woodbane. They were known to have supernatural powers, gifted by the Goddess themselves.

            "The Rowanwands were the knowledge seekers. They collected books of important information and hoarded what they learned. They sometimes used that as a battle strategy: If their enemy was plagued with a disease they could cure, the Rowanwands didn't cure them."

            "Aren't they nice," Claire said dryly, and everyone laughed again.

            "The Burnhides worked with gems and crystals. The Vikroth witches were related to the Vikings, and they were warrior types. The Brightendales worked with herbs and healing work. The Wyndenkells were expert spell weavers, and the Leapvaughns were just mischief makers. They got the word leprechauns from Leapvaughn." I sighed. "And then, there were the Woodbanes.

            "The Woodbanes were a colorful bunch. They were known for their work in dark magick and their desire for power at all costs. Today, many Woodbanes have renounced all evil, but there's still some traditional Woodbanes out there. An important thing to keep in mind: Not all dark witches are Woodbane, and not all Woodbanes are dark witches."

            Everyone nodded. "So, what's your clan?" Rusty asked me.

            "Wait, what are you talking about?" Jordan cut in before I could answer. "Moira's...a blood witch?" He looked at me.

            Arianna grinned. "Show him, girl." She blew out the black candle and sat back, looking at me. They were all looking at me. Especially Jordan.

            It would be a snap to light the candle with only the power of my mind. I'm a fire fairy, like my mother and her mother before her. But with Jordan's eyes on me, I felt scared to. Would he turn away from me? Finally I thought, _Screw it, _and I concentrated on the candle. Within seconds, the wick burst into flame.

            I turned back to look at Jordan. His eyes were wide. "Pyrokinesis," he whispered, reaching out to touch the candle. He blew it out and looked at it, examining it.

            I leaned over to look him in the eyes. "It's just a wick and wax, if you're looking for any tricks," I told him with a grin.

            "This isn't possible," Jordan said, staring into my eyes.

            "Are you doubting her abilities?" Rusty asked him, sounding edgy.

            "Russ, relax," I said, giving him a chastising look. "It's normal for people to be skeptical the first time they see magick performed." 

            Rusty looked sullen. "So, you were going to tell us your clan...?

            I sighed. This was going to be fun--not. "Well...I'm Woodbane." As my coven mates mulled this over, I said, "Actually, to be precise, I'm only three-quarters Woodbane. I'm one-fourth Wyndenkell, on my dad's side."

            "Wow. Don't mess with Moira," PJ quipped, and the tension broke as laughter filled the room. I cracked a smile, and looked over at Jordan to see how he was taking it. 

            He looked a little confused, and a little apprehensive. "So…you're descended from a dark clan," Jordan said slowly, looking at me.

            "I can't believe you just said that," Rusty yelled, jumping to his feet. "Son of a--"

            "Hey!" I interrupted, getting up, too. "You! Kitchen! Now! I'll be there in a sec."

            Rusty blinked at me. "Moira, he--"

            "Ah-ah-ah, do I have to light a fire under your butt to make you move? Because I can do that easily. Now go!" I told him, pointing towards the kitchen. Rusty sulked away, and I said, "I'll be there in a little while."

            I knelt down next to Jordan, who was still looking a bit nervous. "Listen, I'm not going to pretend that my ancestors were all do-gooders. My grandfather alone caused many deaths, including my own grandmother's, the love of his life." I made eye contact with Jordan. "But, that's not who _I am. That's not who my parents are. You can trust us. We're good."_

            Jordan looked into my eyes for a moment, then he nodded. "Okay. I'll take your word for it."

            I smiled. "Thanks. Now I have to kick some butt. Be right back." Jordan snorted, a smirk on his face as I walked into the kitchen.

            As soon as I was inside, I threw up some blocking spells at the kitchen entrance, so if we started screaming, no one would hear. "Okay, _what _is your problem?"

            Rusty stared at me. "_My problem? I don't __have a problem."_

            "Oh, right, that's why you're at Jordan's throat for no good reason."

            "Moira, he was insulting you to your face."

            I rubbed my temple. "Rusty, Jordan is new to this whole magick thing. He's allowed to be skeptical like that. I mean, when someone's just finished telling you that their clan is known for their use of dark magick…you have rights, you know? You have rights to be a little scared and nervous and you shouldn't have started yelling like that. Seriously, why are you like this?"

            Rusty turned away from me. "I just…I don't like him."

            "Rusty, you don't even know him."

            "Yeah, I don't know him and all of a sudden he's invading my whole life!" Rusty yelled. "He's invading my friends, my coven--"

            "Rusty! In case you haven't noticed, _nothing has changed," I pointed out incredulously. "It's not like people are ditching you. But they will ditch you if you keep copping that attitude." I rested my hands on my hips. "And another thing. You asked _me _to run this coven. And I am. So I'd really appreciate it if you stopped trying to tell me how to run it. Everyone's allowed to invite anyone they want, so don't undermine my decisions." _

            Rusty soon looked very defeated. "Let's go back inside now, okay? And be nice." I led him back into the circle room, pondering over the fact that I just yelled at a seventeen year old.

*  *  *

            Later, I was walking with Jordan towards his house. I had offered to walk him home, since he'd come by himself, and Claire gave us very pointed looks as we all left. It was a chilly night, and I walked with my arms wrapped around myself.

            "I really enjoyed tonight," Jordan told me honestly.

            "Really? I'm glad."

            "Yeah." There was a pause. Then Jordan said, "So, your cat must be pretty old."

            I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

            A grin flickered on Jordan's lips as he said, "Well, all his black fur's turned gray."

            I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Oh yeah, and I got a nose job to hide the warts and my pointy black hat's at the cleaners," I replied sarcastically.

            "And can I try out your broomstick? I've always wanted to fly," Jordan added, and I started cracking up. If it had been any other person, I probably would have been offended to the point of using magick against them. But I knew that Jordan was just joking harmlessly. The thought occurred to me that he was flirting, and I was glad that he couldn't see me blush slightly.

            "All that stuff about witches is just myth," I said, ceasing my laughter. "We don't ride on broomsticks and we mostly look just like other people, no green skin or pointy hats. A lot of witches do have cats, but so do a lot of normal people. It's not a witch must-have."

            Jordan nodded. We walked along in silence again, until Jordan said, "That was pretty amazing, with the candle. Can a lot of blood witches do that?"

            I shook my head, a smile creeping onto my face. "It's just in my blood. I'm a fire fairy, just like my mother and my grandmother."

            "A fire fairy, huh?" Jordan thought about this for a minute, then said, "So can you fly around on wings and sprinkle stuff with pixie dust?"

            "Jordan!" I laughed, shoving him lightly. 

            He grinned at me, and I smiled back. "You must have been a real handful when you were little," Jordan mused, an admiring smirk on his face.

            I shrugged. "My powers weren't as strong when I was young, plus my parents had their own powers, so we still had the whole normal family balance." I grinned at the memories of my childhood. "But I could still make things pretty hot to the touch, even if stuff didn't burst into flame. So, for example, if my mom said I couldn't have a cookie, I'd spend time heating up the remote control so when Mom picked it up, she'd burn herself."

            Jordan laughed out loud. "Man, if I could've done that to Grams…"

            I snorted. "If you did that to your grandmother, you'd get your butt kicked just like I did."

            By that time, we'd reached Jordan's house. "Well, thanks for inviting me to your house tonight," Jordan said, looking into my eyes.

            "Anytime. I'm glad you had fun." We held each other's gaze for a few minutes, and I wondered for a second if he was going to kiss me. But then Jordan hurried up the steps, saying, "I'll see you around, Moira."

            "See ya." As soon as Jordan closed his front door behind him, I squealed to myself. The first guy who had ever taken a serious interest in my had survived me telling him that I'd been a witch. I pranced off towards my house, wondering when the last time was that I'd felt so happy.


	4. chapter four: dance in the rain

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

****

[Chapter Four: Dance in the Rain]

      _April 10th_

_                        This morning I felt different. I'm seeing more clearly, my hearing is sharper, and every smell, taste, and touch is like the first time._

_                        It's so strange, and yet so subtle that I wonder if I'm imagining it, if it's all in my head. Maybe I'm feeling different because last night, I did a circle with a real, live witch._

_                        Or maybe it's because I'm falling for one._

_                                                                                                            -__Jordan___

The next morning, I woke up with a smile on my face. Instantly I remembered the night before, how I had told Jordan I was a witch and he still liked me. I remembered our walk to his house. And again I felt happier than I ever had before. 

            I flounced downstairs into the kitchen, where my dad was sitting, drinking tea and reading the newspaper. "Morning, Daddy," I said, grinning and taking pancake mix, bowls, and other things out of the cupboard.

            My dad stared at me, unaccustomed to my cheerfulness. "…Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

            I giggled. "You're so silly, Daddy." I measured out pancake mix into the biggest mixing bowl, humming. Dad continued to stare at me.

            "Ughhh…" My mom plodded down the stairs, grumpy as usual. "Someone get me a diet Coke…" Mom stopped, however, when she saw me mixing pancake batter and humming to myself. She blinked, confused. "Hunter…what's going on?"

            "I have absolutely no idea," Dad told her. "She flounced in here and started making pancakes."

            "She _flounced?"_

"She flounced."

            "Do we have any chocolate chips?" I asked brightly. I raided the cabinets once more and produced a bag of Hershey's chocolate chips. "Sweet! These pancakes are going to taste awesome!"

            "She's acting so…_perky," _my mom observed. "And in the morning, too!"

            "I know," Dad said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she started prancing around to boy band music."

            "Now, I can promise you _that won't happen," I told them, turning around from the counter. "But I can't promise that I won't invite furry woodland creatures to help me clean the house."_

            "Sweetie, put the mixing bowl down," Mom said, gently taking the bowl of batter out of my arms. "You're scaring me. Why are you so perky?"

            "I told him I was a witch, and _he was okay with it!" I squealed, grabbing my mom's arms. "I lit a candle _right in front of him, _and yeah, he was kind of spooked at first, but he ended up being cool with it! And I walked him home and we were joking around, and I think he was __flirting with me!"_

"Wait, wait, wait one blasted second!" Dad yelled, holding his hands up. "Who are you talking about?"

            "Jordan O'Brien!" I squeaked. "The hottest guy in school might like _me!"_

Mom had a half-forced smile on her face as she said, "As happy as I am, you're still scaring me. It's the morning. It's way too early to be anything but half-functioning. We agreed on this."

            "It's already nine thirty," my dad pointed out.

            "What's your point?" Mom replied.

            I calmed down a little. "I guess I know what you mean. How bad was I being?"

            "Very bad."

            "On a scale of one to ten?"

            "Eleven."

            "Yikes." My dad sneezed really loudly, and we both turned to look at him.

            "I think I'm getting a cold," he said bitterly. Mom and I frowned sympathetically in his direction.

            "So, I'm gonna go take a shower and pretend I never acted so strangely," I told my mom, heading for the stairs.

            "Hey, Moira." I turned back around on the stairs. Mom was grinning. "Congratulations on Jordan."

            I allowed myself one last squeal of excitement before running up the stairs. My life was finally getting really good.

*  *  *

            After showering, getting dressed, and eating my chocolate chip pancakes, I sat in my room with a candle in front of me. I felt like scrying for Jordan. I wanted to see him, wanted to know where he was. Was he still sleeping? Was he having breakfast? _Is he in the shower? one little voice wondered, and I giggled._

            I lit the candle, then stared into the flame, letting all of my thoughts slip away. _Jordan__, I thought. _Let me see ___Jordan__, as he is, at this time, on this day. _

Soon, an image began to form within the flames. Jordan's face came into focus first, then the rest of his body, and finally, his surroundings. I recognized his location as the basketball courts at school. Jordan was bouncing a basketball, and occasionally shooting it at the hoop. I smiled and watched for a few minutes, observing him, how he bent his knees perfectly, and how his arms were artistically defined, muscular but not bulging, lean but not scrawny. _Mine, I thought wistfully. _I want him to be mine.__

            I immediately blew out the candle and stood up. I knew what I had to do. I ran downstairs and threw on my denim jacket, telling my mom, "I'm going to the school for a minute."

            "Oh?" Mom asked. "And why is that?"  
            I smirked at her. "Jordan's there."

            Mom smirked back. "Scrying for the object of our affection, are we?"

            "Naturally." I smiled and headed out.

            Soon I was walking across the wet grass of Widow's Vale High School, headed for the back of the campus. A warm feeling filled my stomach as I neared the basketball court. Jordan was there, just like I'd seen in my scrying vision. He looked up and smiled as I approached the court. "Hey, Moira. How'd you know I was here?"

            I just smiled in what I hoped was a mysterious way. "A witch knows." I put my hand out to lean against the basketball hoop, but I missed the pole and stumbled slightly.

            "You didn't see that," I informed Jordan, blushing hard.

            He smirked. "Right." He dribbled the ball and shot it into the hoop. "So what's up?"

            I shrugged nonchalantly. "Not much. I just…wanted to see you." I must have gotten this blunt thing from my mom. I hid my embarrassment by looking at the ground.

            "I'm glad you came." There was a long, silent pause. Then he said, "I want to learn more about Wicca."

            My head snapped up, looking right at him. "Really?"

            "Yeah." He spun the ball around in his hands, looking thoughtful. "After last night, I'm really intrigued."

            "Wow. That's…great." I smiled and walked onto the court. "How about a little one-on-one?"

            Jordan grinned. "Why not? You take the ball out." He threw the ball to me, saying, "Oh, and no magick, okay?"

            "I wouldn't _dream _of it," I said, giving him a wide-eyed innocent look. Jordan laughed, and the game started.

            I'm not that good at basketball, but I was able to keep the ball away from Jordan for a little while. But my shot bounced off the rim and Jordan got the ball. He got a few shots in, but then the basketball ricocheted off the backboard and I caught the rebound. I was forced to dribble in one place, because of Jordan blocking me from behind. My senses were suddenly on high alert as I felt Jordan slip his arms around my waist. I dropped the ball in shock, but Jordan didn't release me and run after the ball. His arms stayed locked around me. I looked up into his face, and he looked back at me intently, his eyes probing mine. _Goddess, he's going to kiss me._

My mind instantly panicked. I didn't know _how to kiss. Did I have to pucker up or what? How much pucker was too much pucker? What if was a really long kiss and I suffocated? What if _he _suffocated? Would it be considered murder if Jordan suffocated while kissing me?_

            "Um…" I looked down and stepped away from Jordan, the only way I knew to get my mind to stop freaking. Of course, I didn't want to know what Jordan thought of me now. I was such a _loser. I couldn't even kiss him. The urge to go over to the hoop and bang my head on the pole a few times was overwhelming._

            "You should come over to my house later," I said instead, getting up the nerve to look at his face. Jordan looked confused, if not disappointed. "I'll catch you up with what the rest of the coven already knows." Jordan was looking at the ground now, and I was hit by a sudden rush of boldness. I walked over to him and lifted his chin, so his light green eyes met my dark hazel ones. "I _want _you to come," I told him. Then, I turned and walked home, hoping that Jordan hadn't changed his mind about me.

*  *  *

            My mom's car was gone when I got home, and there was a note closed between the screen door and the doorjamb, saying that she and Dad had gone over to Practical Magick, the occult bookstore in the next town over. A soft _mrow__ alerted me to Dagda, who had appeared at my feet. I sighed and picked him up, walking around to the backyard._

            "I am _pathetic, _Dagda," I vented, unlatching the gate and entering. "I'm a witch. I can light fires with my mind. I can see into the future. I can tap into the unknown powers of the universe, but I can't kiss a _guy." _I held him up so I was looking into his baby blue cat eyes. "What's _wrong with me?"_

            My cat mewed sympathetically, and I sat down on a bench near the garden. "And now Jordan must think I'm a _freak, and he's never going to talk to me again, and he's probably gonna start going out with some cheerleader." Dagda meowed disdainfully, and I pouted and said, "I'm not being melodramatic. It's true. Jordan hates me now."_

            Dagda, apparently sick of my self-pity, hopped off the bench and pranced toward the house. "Hm! Some pet _you are," I muttered, being left to sulk alone in my misery. My thoughts turned to the garden. It's Mom's pride and joy, a true witch's garden, filled with all kinds of herbs and spices. When I was little, I used to love helping my mom out in the garden. She'd teach me spells to help the growth of plants, and the whole backyard would be filled with good scents and magick. I even had my own little patch in the garden. I considered doing some work in it, but then if Jordan did miraculously decide to come over, I'd be covered in dirt: not good._

            So I sat on the bench, looking up at the sky. A few moments later, an April shower began falling. I smiled; I loved the rain. Dagda had gotten up from his reclined position on the back porch and was now pawing the door, meowing unhappily. "Oh, relax, Dag. It's only water." I stood up and held my arms out to the side, looking up through the raindrops. Rain pattered against my face, and I giggled. I started twirling around, like I had so many times as a child. This type of solitary amusement had been something I'd gotten so used to. I'd dance in the rain, free of the troubles that plagued my life. My life wasn't as plagued anymore, but dancing in the pouring rain still felt good.   I could feel my magick rising inside of me, running through me, taking me over. The rain fell harder, and I spun faster, laughing. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail, letting it swirl around me. My hair crackled with magick, my fingers tingled with it, and I breathed white light.

            "Hey." I stopped abruptly, looking towards the gate. There stood Jordan, standing just inside the gate, watching me, smiling.

            I pushed my hair back from my face, wondering how wild it looked. "Jordan! What are you doing here?"

            Jordan raised his eyebrows. "If I remember correctly, you invited me over. For Wicca lessons."

            Oh, right. Duh. "I didn't think you'd come," I said quietly, looking away. 

            "Of course I came." Jordan walked towards me, smiling. "So, that dance, is it mandatory?"

            I grinned, looking down at the ground. "You must think I'm crazy."

            Jordan laughed. "You light fires with your mind, you dance in the rain." I smirked at his description of me. Yep. Definitely psycho. 

            He lifted my chin, like I had before at the basketball court. "What's not to love?" Jordan whispered, his eyes looking through mine, as if he could see my soul.

            Again, my mind started up with the spasms and my heart was perfectly still, yet beating a thousand miles an hour. But I looked solidly back into Jordan's eyes, not afraid. Not this time. His eyes drifted closed, and I was aware of mine doing the same. Within seconds, Jordan's lips touched mine.

            The initial shock was enough to make me want to jump away, but I stayed. It was like that mystic feeling I got just by holding eye contact with him, only magnified by ten. The actual kiss probably only lasted a few seconds, but time for me had slowed down. The feeling was like heaven. Like a dance in the rain.

            Like magick.

*  *  *

            Jordan and I stood out there for a few minutes, just looking into each other's eyes. I didn't know what was supposed to come after a first kiss. I'd never had one before, and TV shows never have scenes right after the first kiss. If it's a really bad kiss, or a kiss that shouldn't have happened, then they show stuff after it. But when there's a perfect first kiss, like mine and Jordan's, they cut for commercial. So I had no way of knowing what came next.

            "Are you hungry?" I blurted out. "I'll make some Easy Mac."

            _Are you hungry, I'll make some Easy Mac?!?! _my mind screamed as I walked through my house to the kitchen. I knew _that _wasn't supposed to happen after a first kiss. I felt Jordan following me, and felt thankful for that, at least. As it turns out, we don't even have Easy Mac, just regular macaroni and cheese. My hands were shaking so much that I ended up spilling all the noodles onto the floor, and I swooped down to pick them up. _I am such a FREAK, I screeched to myself._

            "Moira, did you not want me to kiss you?" Jordan asked suddenly.  

            I snapped up. "What?"

            Jordan looked completely thrown. "You're acting so strange. I mean, I kiss you and you offer me food?"

            When he said it, it sounded even stupider. "Jordan, I'm sorry, but, I've never been kissed before," I told him. "I didn't know what to do, and I freaked out." I went back to cleaning up my other mess, on the kitchen floor. "I know, I'm stupid, but I couldn't help it. I loved that kiss. It was amazing. _You're amazing. But I'm horrible with social situations. A month ago, I didn't even have friends!" Oops. I hadn't meant to tell him that. "And now you're so perfect and you actually like me, and I just want to be perfect for you but I don't know _how." _I realized that I'd gotten myself worked up to the point where I wanted to cry. __God, get a grip, Riordan, I told myself._

            "Moira, Moira." Jordan walked over and took the uncooked noodles I'd scooped up out of my hands, which actually just made most of them fall back on the floor. He put the noodles that hadn't fallen onto the counter and put one hand on each of my shoulders, which are the roundest parts of my whole body. "You don't have to be perfect. I like you the way you are."

            I looked up at him with sad eyes. "Even with all my crazy little faults?"

            Jordan smiled. "Especially with all your crazy little faults." 

            It's funny. Throughout my years of being an outcast, I'd built a wall around myself, protecting me from pain, from disappointment. I built it out of bitterness, out of cynicism, but mostly out of fear. I'd peeked over that wall when Claire and the others had welcomed me into their circle of friends, but with Jordan…

            With Jordan, that wall came crashing down, leaving me standing there, unprotected. Vulnerable. And I wasn't afraid. It wasn't a bold kind of fearlessness, like I'd felt when my mother and I faced Cal Blaire a few weeks ago. It was the way I felt when Mom had held me afterwards; like maybe I didn't need that wall anymore. Jordan could protect me. I wanted him to.

            "Come on." Jordan took my hand and led me into my living room. "Let's watch a movie, your choice."

            "Okay." I smiled, much more comfortable and at ease. I walked over to the cabinet filled with videos and DVDs, and pulled one out. "Is _Romeo and Juliet _okay?"

            Jordan gave me a wry smile. "I never saw you as a chick flick person."

            "I don't look at it as a chick flick," I said smoothly, putting the DVD into the player. "I see it as a classic."

            He smirked. "Starring Leonardo DiCaprio." As I sat next to him and he wrapped his arms around me, he teased, "Did you cry when Leo died?"

            I smirked back, settling into his arms. "No, actually I laughed."

            Jordan drew back a little and looked at me. "What?"

            I laughed. "Well, when Leo dies in this movie, he does this twitching thing that I always thought was completely hilarious." Jordan was really looking perplexed now, and I laughed again. "I know it's really strange and morbid and everything, but he's all…" I imitated Leo's death twitches and Jordan laughed, his eyes lighting up. "I'm just a really strange kid."

            Jordan smiled at me. "That's okay. I love you anyway."

            I smiled, too, leaning my head against his shoulder a little. "This is my favorite movie of all time. I don't think anyone else knows that." Jordan gave me a little squeeze, and the movie started.

            We watched in silence for a while, up until the scene where Romeo and Juliet first see each other. "This is my favorite scene," I admitted in a whisper, my eyes never leaving the screen. I had never admitted to anyone that I thought this scene was so cute, so perfect. But I loved it. I love how their eyes meet through the glass and water of a fish tank, for reasons I could never explain. I love the way a million emotions are expressed with only a few glances. 

            "Has my heart loved till now?" I said along with the movie. "Foreswear its sight--"

            "For I never saw true beauty, till this night," Jordan finished, and when I looked at him, his eyes were on me, and chills went through my whole body. Never before had my life felt so complete.


	5. chapter five: jealousy

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: ****Soul********Sea****rching**

[Chapter Five: Jealousy]

      _Later April 10th_

_                        I kissed Moira. I'm not an expert on kissing or anything—I've only kissed two other girls in my life—but there was something definitely different about kissing Moira. Maybe it's the whole witch thing. I know it couldn't be that she's got loads of experience; she kind of blurted that it was her first kiss. _

_                        When I kissed Moira, it was like she was drawing out a strange, new part of me—a part of me that I didn't know existed. It was frightening, and yet amazing. Sort of like Moira herself._

_                        Is this what falling in love feels like?_

_                                                                                                            --__Jordan___

"Okay, okay, lemme get this straight," Jamie said, gasping for breath. "He kisses you, and you offer him _Easy Mac?!"_

I groaned and leaned back against my pillow, the cordless phone against my ear. I had originally called for Claire, but as soon as I mentioned Jordan's name, she did this strange, strangled, gasping, choking noise in the back of her throat and handed the phone over to Jamie. The afternoon had gone well, up to the point where my dad came home and found Jordan and I sitting on the couch—okay fine, we were _making out on the couch. Dad didn't yell or anything, just kind of went a little mental, like the day I came home with red-streaked hair. But the most important thing was that while I was politely kicking Jordan out before my dad started rocking back and forth in the corner, Jordan asked me to be his girlfriend._

            "Come on, it was my first kiss," I defended myself, hugging the star-shaped throw pillow on my bed. "I freaked out."

            "Well, yeah, but Easy Mac?" There was a mumble in the background, and Jamie started laughing loudly.

            A smile played on my lips. "What's so funny?"

            "That was Claire."

            At hearing her name, Claire said her statement louder. "The whole thing was so _cheesy,__ your choice of food was __perfect."_

"James, tell your sister that when _she falls head over heels for someone, I am going to _laugh. Very loudly," _I added so Claire would hear._

            "Moira?" I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway. "It's time for bed, hun." I gave her my _just-a-few-more-minutes eyes, but she shook her head. "You have school tomorrow; you'll see your friends there. Say goodnight, Moira."_

            "G'night, Moira!" Mom put her hands on her hips and looked at me. "Fine, fine, I'm going," I mumbled. "Jamie, I--"

            "Gotta go. Yeah, I heard. Don't worry, you can tell me all about Jordan tomorrow—and hey! We'll even get to see you two together, _in action." _I knew the last part was for Claire, and she responded by gagging dramatically. 

            I laughed and hung up. Then I turned to my mom. "So how's dear old Dad doing?"

            Mom smirked. "Well, he's moved on from his my-daughter-was-snogging-with-a-boy drama, and is now writing some teenage boy butt-kicking spells."

            I raised my eyebrows. "You're kidding, right?"

            She smiled. "Of course." My mother sat down on the foot of the bed, saying, "He's just a little shocked. You've never even come close to having a crush on someone famous, much less having a boyfriend." Mom grinned at me, and said, "Tell me everything."

            I grinned back, and launched into the whole story, starting with the basketball court and how I freaked when Jordan wanted to kiss me there, and how I told him to come to my house, and how he caught me dancing in the rain and kissed me there, with rain coming down on us. I told her about breaking down in front of Jordan and the embarrassment that I felt, and how Jordan comforted me. "Jordan just makes me feel so…right. It's like we were meant for each other." Mom raised her eyebrows at me and I said quickly, "But not in that mùirn beatha dàn way. Because Jordan's not a witch, and he'd have to be a witch for him to be my mùirn beatha dàn. So, ha. Mùirn beatha dàns don't exist." Mom poked me hard. "Except for you and Dad."

            "Hmm…" Mom looked thoughtful, and I watched her carefully. "Moira, don't take this the wrong way, but…isn't this thing with Jordan going a little fast?"

            I furrowed my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

            "Well, yesterday you were worried about Jordan even liking you. Today, you're making out with him on the couch." I looked down into my lap, but my mom leaned down to look at me. "Listen, when Mary K. was your age, she dated an older guy, and he tried to rape her twice." My eyes bugged as she continued. "I was there to stop him both times, but it still affected her very strongly. I don't want you to go through that kind of pain."

            "Mom, I can take care of myself," I told her. "Aunt Mary K. is the kind of person that wouldn't hurt a fly. But I have fire power, and I'm not afraid to use it."

            "I don't want it to come to that," Mom said. "I trust your judgment, but…just be careful, okay?"

            "Don't worry, Mom. You won't end up being a young grandparent." She was looking pretty relieved until I said brightly, "There's spells to prevent that!"

            Mom grabbed my pillow and hit me repeatedly with it. "Ahh, stop, I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" I crawled under my blankets to escape my mother's wrath.

            "Get some sleep," Mom said lightly, and I could tell there were no hard feelings. I crawled up to my pillow and fell into a deep sleep, filled with dreams about Jordan. 

*  *  *

            The next day at school, all eyes were on Jordan and I, the cool new kid and the Wiccan witch. In the morning, before first period, Jordan kissed me hello over and over, pressing me gently up against my locker. My whole conversation with Mom had disappeared from my memory.

            As we kissed, a tiny squeak interrupted us. We broke away and saw Courtney Hartford staring at us, looking like she'd been frozen in place. Jordan looked at me questioningly. "Uh…is she okay?"

            "She will be." I snapped my fingers in front of her. Courtney didn't blink. "Just give her time to get over herself."

            "You know her better than I do," Jordan said. The warning bell sounded, and he said, "I gotta run, babe. See you at lunch." Jordan kissed me on the cheek, making a loud "Mmmuah!" sound.

            I let myself giggle. "Bye-bye." I watched him leave, then turned my attention to Courtney. "Okay, time to work on you."

            I started lightly tapping her cheeks, and soon she twitched really hard. "Were you just _kissing _Jordan?" she asked me, wide-eyed.

            "Uh, yeah. That's what girls usually do with their boyfriends," I told her.

            "He's your _boyfriend?" she squeaked, her eyes bulging._

            _I am about to see a cheerleader have a meltdown, _I thought amusedly. "Yes," I told her. "He asked me out yesterday." I turned and began putting my books in my locker.

            Courtney looked like she was about to hyperventilate. "How is this _possible?" _she asked nobody in particular.

            "You know, you could just assume that Jordan _likes me," I told her, feeling annoyed._

            She looked at me with accusing eyes. "You know, people are seriously saying that you put some kind of spell on Jordan," she told me. "That the only reason he's hanging around with you is you're forcing him to."

            I slammed my locker shut and looked at her. "Courtney. It's against the Wiccan Rede to do spells that mess with a person's free will. I would never do that. And even if it wasn't against the Rede, I still wouldn't do it. So you can just tell all your little friends, especially that Ashley chick, that they're just gonna have to get used to the idea that Jordan _chose me over them. Okay?" I passed her by, going into my classroom._

            "Hey." I turned around to look at Courtney. "I never said that _I said it," she told me, with almost a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "I don't think you put a spell on him."_

            I looked at her for a few moments. "Thanks," I said finally. Courtney just looked at me apologetically and left, and I stood there, wondering if Courtney Hartford had actually been nice to me.

*  *  *

            Lunchtime was unlike any other that I've ever experienced. Everyone stared at my coven's table, where I sat close to Jordan and he had his arm around my shoulders. Whispers of spells were abundant, like Courtney had said, but I brushed them off, and so did Jordan.

            "Ugh," Claire gagged as Jordan kissed the tip of my nose. "You've done that five times in the last fifteen minutes."

            "Isn't it precious?" Jamie kidded her sister, poking her arm.

            "It's sickening," Claire disagreed, throwing a wad of napkins at me as I gazed into Jordan's eyes. "Isn't there a school rule against this?"

            "Sorry," Jordan apologized, looking embarrassed. "I'll stop."

            I nudged him with my elbow. "Don't you dare stop."

            "You _are evil," Claire said in astonishment as Jamie laughed and Jordan gave her an apologetic grin._

            "You!" Without any warning I was dragged into a standing position by my right arm, and I whirled around to see Ashley Ballard glaring at me. Fury burned in her eyes. "What did you do to him?"

            I blinked at her. "What did I do to _who__?"_

_            Ashley shook me and yelled "Jordan!"_

            "Let go of me," I told her, pulling my arm out of her grip. Little indentions were left on my skin by her press-on nails. "What are you talking about?" Jordan had stood up, too, his hand resting on my waist.

            Ashley's eyes flicked to Jordan, then back to me. "What kind of spell did you put on him?" she hissed.

            I just looked hard at her. "I didn't put a spell on him."

            "How could you even say that?" Jordan asked her, pulling me towards him. I didn't know if he was being protective or he thought I might attack Ashley. If it was the latter, it was an accurate assumption.

            Ashley looked from Jordan's arm to Jordan, and then to me. "Why else would you be with her?!"

            "You could just assume that he likes her." I could've sworn that the whole cafeteria gasped as we turned to see Courtney Hartford.

            Ashley gaped at her fellow cheerleader. _"Whaaat?!"_

_            Courtney looked stricken. "But, you know, I'm probably wrong. I don't know anything. In fact, that's why I'm going to the library right now. To learn something." She giggled nervously, then said, "Bye!" and sped off. _

            "Wow," I said after a pause. "I was almost proud of her."

_            Ashley turned back to me. "_Anyway. _What was I saying?"_

            "I think you were going to leave," Jordan told her. "In fact, I highly suggest you do."

            Ashley fixed him with her deadly glare. "You know, you had potential, Jordan. You really did. But then, you started hanging around with _Moira, _and--"

            "And what?" Jordan interrupted loudly. "I didn't make the grade for you? I wasn't cool enough by your standards?" Ashley was taken aback by his harsh tone. "Well, here's some news: _I don't give a damn."_

_            People gasped at that louder than they gasped at Courtney's outburst. No one tells a cheerleader that they don't care about what she thinks of them, except me. They especially don't tell the head cheerleader that, again, except me. Ashley turned to look at me, her mouth gaping. All I would say was, "Isn't Jordan sexy when he's mad?" with a superior grin._

            "You little--" Ashley came at me, arms raised to literally scratch me out, but suddenly she was thrown back into the table behind her, and her butt landed in someone's chicken pot pie.

            The whole cafeteria burst into laughter, me leaning against Jordan as I cracked up. But in the pit of my stomach, something didn't feel right. I knew that afterwards, people would attribute Ashley's flying stunt to me, the Wiccan Witch of Widow's Vale.

            But I knew that it wasn't me who did it.


	6. chapter six: the rose and the thorn

**[Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! I wanna thank all the people who reviewed my story! Thank you! And, just a note: My school year starts on Tuesday, September 2, so I might not be able to get chapters out as fast as I'd want to. But, I will be writing. I'm not ending it all just because of school. Just wanted to make that clear ^_^ Enjoy this chapter! –Katie**]**

****

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

****

[Chapter Six: The Rose and the Thorn]

      _April 14_

_                        I have definitely made a name for myself at Widow's Vale High. I'm the guy who publicly embarrassed the cheer squad captain, the guy who looked popularity in the face and then walked away. I'm Moira Riordan-Niall's boyfriend, and I'm damn proud of it._

_                        Moira. Every day with her is a revelation. It almost seems that there's something different about her every time I see her. And lately, whenever she smiles at me, whenever we're together, it's almost as if I hear these words inside my head. They're actually more like sounds. It doesn't make sense to me, like they're in a different language. Maybe it's what people always talk about, how when you're in love, you can't think straight. That's the only way I can explain it. It must be love._

_                                                                                                -__Jordan___

"And what comes after Lammas?" I quizzed Jordan.

            "Mabon," Jordan answered with a serious expression of concentration on his face. "It's the autumnal equinox, where night and day are equal. It's the harvest festival, and at Mabon, Wiccans seek balance within themselves."

            "Very good," I said, grinning at him. "Another right answer." And to reward Jordan, I leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips. We'd been using this rewards system for the hour that we'd spent going over what I'd taught the coven.

            "Can you tutor me in everything?" Jordan asked me, his eyes playful.

            I smiled, imagining Claire writhing on the floor screaming, _Damn it! Stop that now! I can't take it! _"Seriously, Jordan, I am really impressed," I told him. "You're really picking this stuff up."

            Jordan shrugged. "Wicca's really interesting to me. I can't stop reading about it."

            "Hmm," I said thoughtfully, putting my book back onto my desk. "What does your grandmother think about this?" I knew that Jordan had been raised Catholic, so my own experiences with my grandparents told me that it couldn't have been easy.

            Jordan shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't told her yet."

            "You haven't?" I turned around and looked at him. "Jordan, you really should be honest with her."

            "Don't worry. I'll tell her eventually." I sat back down on my bed, leaning against the pillows, and Jordan turned to face me. "So, what was it like to grow up as a blood witch?" he asked me. "That must have been anything but ordinary."

            I nodded in agreement. "It was. But my situation is much different than most other blood witches'."

            Jordan looked at me quizzically. "How so?"

            I shrugged, pulling my legs up to my chest. "Well, my mom's pretty famous among Wiccans. She has power that only comes along every few generations."

            Jordan watched me with interest. "Wow. That must be interesting."

            "Sort of. But it's like…I'm always being watched to see if I'll live up to my mom's legacy. If I'll have my mom's strength, her intelligence. It's nerve wracking." I sighed. "It's not always fun when everyone knows who you are, and they're constantly telling you how amazing your mother is, and they make you feel like you can't just relax, you always have to work, work, work so you're not a disappointment. I'm the daughter of a prodigy, so everyone expects _me _to be one, too."

            Jordan nodded sympathetically. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're amazing." We looked into each other's eyes, and any intelligence I had was completely erased.__

Soon, Jordan was leaning in and kissing me, and I moved my legs so he could get closer. Jordan's hand curled around my neck, and his mouth pressed against mine. All I could think was, _Jordan and I are alone in my bedroom, with the door closed, on my bed. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him more, and I felt like saying, _I love you, I love you, you're perfect…__

            _Slam. _"Oh my God, Moira, your mom just told me what happened to you with--" My mother's best friend, Bree, stood in my doorway, staring at Jordan and I. We had stopped kissing and sat there, still in each other's arms. "Oh. Oh my."

            I gave her a sarcastic smile. "Hi, Aunt Bree." Yes, hello and welcome to my make-out session. Sit back, relax, and grab some popcorn, why don't you?

            "Your mom, she didn't tell me…I didn't know…I'm gonna go now." Aunt Bree gave a nervous laugh, and then disappeared.

            I shook my head and laughed, then turned back to Jordan. He was staring at my doorway, looking shocked. "Was that…Did Bree _Warren _just come in here?"

            I smirked. Aunt Bree is a freelance model, and she's pretty famous. "Aunt Bree is my mom's best friend," I informed him with a grin.

            "I've had dreams about this," Jordan said, still looking perplexed. "I was kissing a pretty girl, and then Bree Warren storms in, and the girl and Bree start wrestling each other and ripping each other's clothes off…"

            I scooted away from him. "Sicko."

            "It was only a dream, Moira!" Jordan defended himself as I laughed and got off my bed. "Come on, don't leave!" He leapt up and followed me.

            "Relax, Jordan," I told him. "I just have a feeling that my mom put Aunt Bree up to that. You know, check up on us so we're not reproducing like rabbits."

            I don't think I've ever seen anyone blush as hard as Jordan was at that moment. "W-would she really think we're…doing that?"

            "She's a mother, it's in her job description," I told him. "But I was kidding, anyway." I put my finger to my lips as we passed my parents' room. "My dad's sleeping in there."

            "Is he okay?" Jordan whispered, looking concerned. I loved how he was concerned.

            "He's got the flu. Mom could heal him in a second, but she doesn't like to use her powers unless it's an emergency." 

            Jordan nodded, and then he stopped me in the hall and kissed me.

            I pulled away, smiling. "What was that for?"

            Jordan shrugged, looking intently at me. "'Cause I love you."

            I fell for Jordan even more in that second. "I love you too." I wasn't sure if this was how most relationships went, but this was how mine was going. And I wasn't complaining a bit.

*  *  *

            The next day, Saturday, I called Jordan in the morning and asked him to meet me in the woods near the field out past Tower's Market. I walked there by myself, imagining Jordan and I spending the day alone in the woods, talking, kissing…I shivered with excitement. It was pleasantly chilly, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked across the field.

            But when I got to the edge of the woods, I stopped and stared with dismay. Derek Boles and about five of his mindless buddies were standing around, smoking. Derek was the first to notice me. "Well, well, well..."

            "What are you doing here?" I asked, feeling like I'd been slapped. _No, no, no! _This was _not supposed to happen. _

            "I'm sorry, is this The Witch's Woods?" Derek spat, throwing down his cigarette and walking towards me. "I had no idea." He fixed me with his hard glare. "You know, my parents weren't too fond of the little stunt you pulled on me."

            "Oh, you mean the one where I taught you a lesson?" Derek is a huge jerk, and a few weeks ago, I knocked him off his chair using my magick when he was sexually harassing me. "Funny, I rather enjoyed that."

            Derek's eyes glittered menacingly, and I started to feel worried. "And I think that _I _am going to enjoy _this."_

Suddenly one of the other guys standing around grabbed me from behind and started dragging me deeper into the woods. "What are you _doing? _Get off me!" I started jumping up and down, kicking my legs out, doing anything to make them let go of me. But the boy hanging on to me was on the football team, so there was no way I could shake him. He finally slammed me against a tree, and held me there by going around the back and holding onto my arms.

            "So how does it feel to be powerless?" Derek asked me, getting in my face.

            "I wouldn't know," I told him, then kicked out my legs right into his stomach. 

            Derek doubled over, his face contorted in pain. "Get her legs," he snarled to one of the guys standing around watching. I immediately tried to kick him, but he grabbed my right foot and twisted it. I made a pained sound as a small _crack ensued, and stopped fighting, much against my will. Meanwhile, Derek had straightened up, and now had a fresh layer of fury in his eyes. "You're going to pay for that, witch." And with a heightened sense of fear, I realized he now held a stone the size of his fist in his hand._

            "Let her go." Derek turned to see Jordan standing a few feet away, watching the scene in both fear and anger.

            "Jordan, go and get help," I told him, my voice sounding ironically calm. "Go and get help and come back here as fast as you can. If you see somebody running around with his head on fire, don't worry, it just means I'm handling it."

            "Let her go now," Jordan hissed at Derek, stepping forward.

            "Nope, sorry, can't do that," Derek replied, tossing the stone in his hand like a baseball. "I'm afraid you're going have to watch your witch girlfriend get stoned to death." My eyes widened in fear as Derek turned to me and drew his arm back.

            "NO!" Suddenly, everything went into slow motion. We all watched as a ball of blinding white light began to grow in the palm of Jordan's outstretched hand. He suddenly threw his arm forward, sending the orb of light straight towards Derek.

            Derek jumped out of the way, which meant the ball of light was headed for me. Luckily, both guys who had been restraining me had released me and moved out of the way. I threw myself to the ground, covering my head with my arms. The ball of white witch fire collided with the tree with a thunderous impact. I gasped when I realized a huge crack had been made in the trunk of the tree. "It's gonna fall!"

            Everyone moved as far away from the falling tree. The sound of the tree crashing to the ground was horrific. There was a horrible silence.

            "Come on, guys, let's get out of here." Derek and his friends ran out of the woods, scared as hell. I could feel their fear. Or maybe I was only feeling my overwhelming fear.

            Jordan and I were left there alone, staring at each other. I picked myself off the floor and winced; my right ankle felt sprained. Jordan started walking towards me, saying, "Moira--"

            "No, get away from me." My whole world was shattering. Everything that had happened in the past two weeks flashed before my eyes: Jordan staring at my pentacle. His willing acceptance to me being a witch. The way he picked up on all the information so quickly. And Ashley being thrown into the table. It all made sense now.

            Jordan O'Brien had lied to me all along. He was a blood witch. And right now, he'd almost killed someone.

            Jordan actually looked shocked. "Moira, I don't…"

            "No, you _lied_ to me," I choked out, trying desperately to keep my emotions down. I felt like crying, throwing up, and strangling Jordan. More images came to me: him staring lovingly into my eyes, telling me I was pretty, telling me he loved me. _Oh, Goddess, Jordan, how could you…how could you…_

"You're a blood witch," I said, unable to do anything more than state the obvious.

            Jordan had the nerve to still act perplexed. "What? Moira, I'm not--"

            "Jordan, you just conjured up _white witch fire," I told him, my voice wobbling. "Not only do you have to be a blood witch to do that, but you have to be a pretty damn powerful one. You lied to me, all this time…"_

            Jordan face was pale, and he walked closer to me. But I called up what little strength I had left and shoved Jordan as hard as I could. He fell to the ground, and I ran, limping, pain searing through my leg as it seared through my heart. I had let myself become vulnerable to love, and this was what happened. Sobs racked through me as I ran home.


	7. chapter seven: emotionless

**Shadow Girl******

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

****

[Chapter Seven: Emotionless]

            _Everything around me feels surreal. I don't know what the truth is, because I'm just realizing that my whole life is a lie. I don't know what to do. I need help._

I ran home in pain, crying. Tears clouded my vision, and I was hyperventilating. My ankle was swollen and turning a really nasty shade of purple, but I couldn't stop. I had to get home.

            I stumbled through my front door and ran up the stairs, crying out in pain on the way up because of my ankle. I slammed my bedroom door shut and crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

            _Jordan__ is a witch. And he almost killed someone. I lay there, thinking about this. Thinking about everything. Jordan had lied to me. Jordan was dangerous. I thought about my mom and Cal Blaire, her first boyfriend. Cal had lied to Mom. Cal had been dangerous. He'd tried to kill her when she refused to be a part of his mother's dark plan._

            Then I thought of my biological grandparents, Maeve Riordan and Ciaran MacEwan. Ciaran never told Maeve that he had been already married with three children. Ciaran had lied to her. Maeve had refused to stay with Ciaran, and he had burned her to death a little over a year later, locked up in an abandoned barn.

            Was this my destiny? Love, lies, and death? 

            "Moira?" Mom poked her head into my room. I looked up, surprised. "Moira, what happened to you?" she asked, sounding alarmed. She knelt down, looking at my ankle. "I'll go get an ice pack."

            She left, and I sat myself up, wondering how horrible I looked. My hair was messy and snot was probably all over my face. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

            Mom came back, holding a plastic Ziploc bag full of ice. She sat down next to me on the floor, balancing the bag on my ankle. "Tell me what happened," she said, holding me with her free arm.

            What could I tell her? I was attacked by a bunch of goons who sprained my ankle, and then my boyfriend came and shot white witch fire at them? "I-I was running and I twisted my ankle but I kept running anyway," I told her, trying to stop crying.

            "Sweetie, why were you running? Weren't you meeting Jordan?"

            The sound of his name felt like a dagger plunging through my heart. "J-J-Jordan and I broke up," I cried. "I don't want to talk about it. Just, please, leave me alone."

            Mom looked shocked at this. But I pulled away from her grip and curled up on my floor, crying. Eventually she left. 

            I cried until all I could do was sniffle. I stared up at the ceiling, pressing the bag of ice against my swollen ankle. I felt empty; something inside me was definitely missing. There was a hole in there. And the longer I stared up towards the ceiling, the less emotion I felt. _Emotions, who needs them? I thought bitterly. __They only mess with your life. Without emotions, I wouldn't feel pain, wouldn't feel sadness, wouldn't feel anger. Sure, I wouldn't feel happiness either, but I've lived fourteen years without any real happiness. I can live without it._

My ankle felt numb. And so did my heart.

*  *  *

            I spent the rest of the day lying on my floor. I asked my mom to lead the circle with Stellaluna, but since Dad was still sick, she had to handle Kithic, too. She told me that in the end, she brought Kithic over to Claire's house, where Stellaluna was meeting. According to Mom, when Claire opened the door and found my mother and her entire coven on her doorstep, her eyes got very round and she muttered something in French in a dumbfounded tone. I might have laughed if I still had emotions, but I replied to Mom with silence, and she actually opened my bedroom door to see if I was still alive. At some point, I fell asleep, still on my floor, and Mom must have come into my room when I was sleeping, because I woke up on my bed.

            I stayed in bed all day on Sunday, and by that evening, my ankle wasn't swollen anymore. It still hurt, though, so on Monday morning my mom wrapped it up in an Ace bandage, and she dropped me off at school.

            The minute I stepped into the main corridor, there was an unearthly silence. Everyone stared at me, only it was different from what I was used to. They looked at me as if I was about to keel over and die.

            And I knew what happened without even asking. Jordan's secret had gone school-wide.

            A girl with shoulder-length dark hair walked up to me and gently touched my arm. "Moira. How are you?"

            I blinked at her, trying to place her. She looked familiar. "I'm…fine."

            She leaned in towards me until her forehead lightly tapped mine. "Oh…I guess you didn't hear…"

            I took a step back, wondering what exactly she'd heard. "Enlighten me."

            Her voice took on the soft tone used to explain death to four year olds. "Moira…it's about your"—here her voice dropped to a whisper—"boyfriend."

            "…Uh huh." _Hurry up and tell me what I already know._

"It's all over the school," she told me. "Derek Boles and some of his friends ran into him in the woods. Jordan flipped out. And…well, Moira…you're not the only witch on the block, honey."

            I blinked. Typical Derek. Skip the part where he's trying to hurt somebody and call him Mr. Big Victim. "Right," I told her, turning and walking away.

            People were giving me fish eyes, like they expected me to start throwing things in an emotional fit. If they kept this up, I was going to set something on fire.

            "Moira!" Claire and Jamie ran up to me. Jamie started hugging me to death, while I squeaked out a warning about my bruised ankle. "Moira you should hear what's going on, everyone's saying Jordan's a _witch and he attacked someone…"_

            "I know," I told her, stepping back a little. "I was there."

            Both girls' mouths dropped open. _"What?" Claire exclaimed. "Is _that _why fifteen people showed up at my doorstep Saturday night instead of just you?"_

            "Your mom mentioned you had a sprained ankle," Jamie remembered. "What happened?"

            I glanced down at my bandaged ankle. "It just sort of happened…a lot of crap happened on Saturday." I looked at Claire. She had told me from the beginning to take it slow with Jordan. I hadn't listened to her. I felt so stupid. "I should have listened to you," I told her. "I was so stupid about Jordan, and now…"

            Claire just looked at me. "Oh, shut up. You're so schizophrenic. You have to be who you are. Yes, ultimate corny, but do I care? No. Be true to yourself. If you are, you'll come out of this with a smile on your face and a lollipop in your mouth."

            I blinked at her, and then I turned to Jamie. "Translation?"

            "She was being sympathetic."

            "Oh." I walked down the hall with them towards my locker saying, "You know, Claire, it's amazing that you don't make people cry with the way you are."

            "You haven't known me that long," she replied with a grin. I actually smiled back, and was smiling until we reached my locker. It was then that I remembered how things were a week ago, Jordan and I kissing, everyone being jealous.

            I guess no real happiness can ever stay.

*  *  *

            The rest of the morning felt strange, as if I was watching this girl on a black-and-white screen, drifting through her classes, her facial expression emotionless, her eyes always looking straight in front of her. 

            In English, I was listening to the teacher discuss the use of symbolism in _The Joy Luck Club _when I heard whispers behind me. The voices belonged to Marissa Conley and Alexa Harper.

            "…One week," Alexa was telling Marissa. "Moira and Jordan only lasted a week. That's like, the shortest relationship at Widow's Vale high in _years." _Great. Now I was part of the latest love gossip.

"No, Rob Munser and Kaila Abbott's second try at their relationship lasted only two days," Marissa disagreed.

            "Well, that one doesn't count; no one expected that to last."

            There was a short pause. "No one really expected Moira and Jordan to last either, did they?" Marissa pointed out.

            "Yeah. I guess their days were numbered. Moira's, like, not allowed to have that great of a life. It's like, against the laws of nature."

            I whirled around in my seat to look at them. Alexa and Marissa's eyes widened, and they looked shocked, embarrassed, and worst of all, sympathetic. I was sick and tired of people giving me pity looks.

            I opened my mouth, but then closed it. What was I supposed to yell at them for? Telling the truth? It _was impossible for me to have a nice, normal life. Instead, I gave them an empty stare for a few minutes, then turned back around. Alexa and Marissa didn't say anything else for the rest of the period. I have a gift for killing conversations._

            At lunch, I ate silently, surrounded by my friends. None of us spoke much. I felt Rusty's eyes on me, and I wondered how long he'd wait until he said, "I told you so." If he knew what was good for him, he'd keep his mouth shut for another week. I wasn't ready to deal with his gloating.

            Suddenly, the whole cafeteria went silent. I looked up to see Jordan walking through the doors on the other side of the room. He was like Moses, parting the stormy waters of a high school cafeteria. Everyone backed away from him, as if his skin was acid, his breath poison, his very gaze deadly. Everyone used to stare at _me _like that. It felt strange to watch the same kind of scene from an observer's point of view.

            I tore my eyes away from Jordan. I couldn't look at him. I felt his presence walk slowly to our table. He stopped in front of the table. Most of the coven just looked at him. Claire put an arm around my shoulders, and Jamie sat closer to me on the other side. I poked at my school cafeteria meatloaf and desperately wished freshmen were allowed to go out for lunch.

            "You're not welcome in the coven now, Jordan." I snapped my eyes to Rusty, shocked. Even though it seemed inevitable, I couldn't believe Rusty was actually exiling Jordan. 

            "What?" Jordan asked, sounding a little stunned, himself.

            Rusty looked at him cynically. "You're dangerous, Jordan. You lied to the coven, and you especially lied to the coven leader. Moira." He gave a short, dry laugh. "Not that you were ever really a member of our coven, anyway." My eyes drifted away from Rusty, back to my lunch tray. It hurt to hear Rusty take this tone with Jordan. Even if he did almost kill someone.

            "Moira's the coven leader," Jordan told him evenly. "Shouldn't it be _her _choice, who stays in the coven?"

            Everyone's gaze turned to me. I couldn't believe Jordan had just done that. How could he put me in that spot? I couldn't look at him, couldn't speak.

            "I think," Rusty said smugly, "that answers that."

            "Moira." I flinched at Jordan's voice, soft and familiar and now hinted with pain. "Moira, look at me."

            I slid my eyes to the left and looked at Claire. Her eyes were narrowed in defiance, like she would gladly drag Jordan outside and fight him. I tried to imitate Claire's face, squinting up at Jordan like I couldn't see him clearly. _You can't hurt me, I thought. __I've already cried. You can't hurt me anymore._

Jordan's light green eyes stripped through me, like they had so many times before. He made me feel so vulnerable, made that wall crash down. My mind flashed back to our first kiss, and I blinked rapidly. _No, you can't hurt me…I'm stronger than this…_

I got up from the table abruptly, muttering, "I have to go to the bathroom." I walked past Jordan, brushing his arm with mine. In that contact I felt a jolt of emotions, shooting through me like static electricity. I snapped around to look at Jordan, gasping shortly. I'd felt what he was feeling: Anger, confusion, pain. But, overwhelmingly, love. He still loved me.

            God damn it.

            I walked quickly out of the cafeteria, wrapping my arms around myself. I was breathing fast, still feeling dazed from the exchange of emotions. I literally felt sick, like Jordan's still-present feelings for me were making me physically ill. _I'm stronger than this, I kept telling myself. _Get a grip, I'm stronger than this, I'm stronger…I'm stronger…__

I pushed through the bathroom door and went straight to the sinks. I looked hard at my reflection in the mirror. I looked so much like my mother. And somehow, I was living her own mistakes with Cal. _No, _I thought defiantly. _I am not my mother, I am not my mother…_

I turned to the wall and slammed my fists into it, anger shooting through me. Then I slid down to the floor and cried, letting my bottled-up emotions be free.


	8. chapter eight: book of shadows

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter Eight: Book of Shadows]

      _April 19_

_                        I don't believe this. It's like I'm the son of Hitler or something. No one will talk to me. Everyone's whispering about me. And the one person who might be able to help me, who should be by my side right now, won't even look at me if she can avoid it. I'm sitting here alone at lunch. I've never sat alone at lunch before. I've always sat with someone._ _I'm usually a likeable person, but now no one wants anything to do with me. Not that I really want to talk to anyone right now, except maybe for Moira._

_                        But Moira won't speak to me. She acts like it hurts just to look at me. I don't get it. If I'm really a blood witch (which I still doubt, even after what happened), then why would she be so upset? I'd be just like her. Why is she being so weird? I don't understand anything anymore._

_                                                                                                            -Jordan_

            I sat on the floor of the girls' bathroom, crying with my head buried in my knees. I hated this; it felt like the waterworks would never end. But then I heard a toilet flush, and I quickly stopped and wiped my face with my arm.

            Courtney Hartford stepped out of a stall, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of me. "Hi." She walked over to the sinks and washed her hands, ignoring my sullen glare. She dried them on her cotton mini-skirt, which matched the rest of her outfit completely, down to her socks and the scrunchie holding her ponytail in place. Then she turned to me. "I'm really sorry about Jordan," she said softly.

            I snorted cynically.

            "Really, I am," Courtney told me, walking to where I was sitting and sliding down next to me. "That must have been horrible, hearing about that. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

            "Which, ironically, is me," I said bitterly, getting up from where I was sitting.

            Courtney sighed. "Moira, you're not my worst enemy."

            "Oh, I'm not? Because you sure could've fooled me," I shot back.

            "Look, do you want to know the truth?" Courtney asked me.

            "The truth?" I repeated. "Well, that's not something I hear every day."

            "I'm jealous of you."

            _"What?!"_

Courtney sighed. "Yeah, I was really freaked out and scared the first time I found out you had powers, but after a while…I secretly thought they were really cool. And I was jealous."

            I stared at her. "You do know that's the single corniest thing I've heard all day, don't you?"

            "Yeah, I figured as much. But that's the truth."

            "It's almost sort of refreshing," I admitted, walking over to the sinks again, looking at myself. 

            Courtney sidled up next to me, looking at my reflection. "Can you imagine what Derek went through? He was the one who got attacked. Can you imagine seeing what he saw?"

            I turned away, a fresh wave of anger sweeping through me. "I don't have to imagine. I was there."

            Courtney looked shocked. "You were there?"

            "Yeah, and for your information, Derek wasn't as innocent as he makes himself sound."

            "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

            I lifted the leg of my jeans to reveal my Ace-bandaged ankle. "Derek was trying to hurt me when Jordan found us. That's why Jordan attacked him."

            Courtney gave a little gasp. "Oh my God. Jordan was trying to _protect _you…"

            I turned away from her again. "It doesn't matter. There were other ways of protecting me. I didn't _need _his protection. He should've just stayed out of it." I wrapped my arms around myself. "I've been so stupid about Jordan. Why would he ever want to be with _me _when he's got girls like Ashley Ballard throwing themselves at their feet? The answer to that is simple. It's the same reason why Cal Blaire wanted my mother. I have power. Ashley doesn't. Jordan can use me for his own twisted evil plans."

            Courtney blinked. "Okay, I didn't understand half of what you just said, but I know that you weren't stupid about Jordan." And then she said two words that I don't think either of us ever expected her to say.

            "You're human."

*  *  *

            After our extremely strange encounter in the girls' bathroom, Courtney and I walked back to the cafeteria together, making small talk about the classes we shared together.

            "Hey, _witch," _Ashley yelled at me, grinning maliciously. "Sorry to hear about your precious _boyfriend. You must be so upset that you're not the only _freak _in town. Guess you'll have to get over it." I ignored her as best I could, planning to walk away, but Courtney stopped me dead in my tracks with what would surely go down in history._

            "Ashley? Shut the hell up."

            I whirled around, my eyes wide. Courtney was glaring at her former leader with such contempt that her clear blue irises were almost literally sparking. "You seem to forget that _you _wanted Jordan, too. _You _could very well be in Moira's position right now. But you think you're so special and cool and above everyone else. And you're _not. _And I wish you were in the woods with Derek so maybe Jordan would have blown _you up, because you're the world's biggest _bitch_."_

            There was dead silence in the cafeteria. Everyone turned or looked up to stare at Courtney, even Jordan, who was sitting by himself in a far corner of the cafeteria. Even I was shocked. That was the worst thing anyone had ever said to Ashley Ballard, or any head cheerleader for that matter. I half-expected to see Ashley's eyes roll into the back of her head and watch her slide off her chair.

            Courtney marched off, leaving me standing in front of the stunned cheerleader table. I could only laugh nervously, then run after Courtney.

            "You do know you just defended me in public, right?" I asked her once I caught up.

            "Yes," she answered in the same defiant voice she'd used with Ashley.

            "You stood up to the girl you've idolized this whole school year and called her the world's biggest bitch," I recapped.

            "Yes," Courtney confirmed, sounding a little less self-assured than before.

            "…You know they're never going to talk to you again, right?"

            _"Yes!" _Courtney sobbed, burying her face in my shoulder.

            I grinned, patting Courtney's head. "You did a good thing."

            "Next time you see me doing a good thing," she told me through clenched teeth, "hit me over the head with something heavy."

            "Will do, Corky. Will do."

            We walked over to the coven's table, and sat down together amid the once-again present chatty din of the cafeteria. Claire actually told Courtney that she was impressed, which was replied to with a pitiful groan. I laughed at them, but stopped as I felt eyes on me. I turned to see Jordan looking at me. His eyes were angry, his mouth a thin line. A leather-bound book was open in front of him. A Book of Shadows. My stomach knotted at that thought. He had a Book of Shadows this whole time, probably making notes on how he met a powerful witch, one of the Riordan line, and how he'd succeeded in making her fall in love with him.

            _The story's already been done, _I thought, looking Jordan dead in the eyes. _And once again, the Riordan will win._

*  *  *

            I skipped Global History the next period, being in no mood to learn about things that happened hundreds of years ago. I walked out a side door, wrapping my arms around myself against the chilly April wind. I turned the corner of the building and saw Rusty leaning against the wall, staring at some distant point in the sky. He turned as he heard me approaching. "Hi, Moira," he said, sounding surprised.

            I suddenly felt shy. "I didn't know this was your free period," I said.

            Rusty gave me a smirk. "I didn't know ninth graders got free periods," he quipped.

            I looked away, leaning back onto the brick building and stuffing my hands in my pockets. "I'm cutting. So what?"

            "Jordan's having a bad influence on you," Rusty muttered.

            A dark look crossed my face. "If you're going to just rub it in my face that Jordan's evil, I'm leaving."

            "I'm sorry, Moira," Rusty said without any tone of remorse, "but I did tell you that I had a bad feeling about Jordan. You didn't listen to me."

            I slapped the wall in frustration. "Look, I know that I was stupid. But it still hurts to think that my first boyfriend turned out to be so rotten."

            Rusty looked at me, without any clear emotion on his face. "Maybe your second boyfriend won't be so rotten," he said quietly, moving closer to me.

            I narrowed my eyes. "Let me guess, maybe he won't be so _rotten but maybe he'll be a little __rusty," I said dryly._

            Rusty was in front of me now, staring into my eyes. I couldn't help but notice that it didn't have the same effect as when Jordan did the same thing. Suddenly, Rusty was leaning down to kiss me.

            I moved away quickly, and Rusty hit his head on the brick building. "What are you doing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

            "Why did you move?" Rusty retorted angrily, rubbing his head. 

            "I asked you first. What do you think you're doing?" 

            Rusty sighed and looked away, running his fingers through his hair. "Moira…I like you. Okay? I really like you."

            "So, what, that gives you license to just kiss me whenever you want?" I yelled, taking one more step back.

            "Moira, what's your problem?" Rusty shot back. "Why are you getting so upset?"

            "Because I love Jordan!"

            We both fell silent. I, in true sitcom fashion, had slapped my hands over my own mouth. What was I saying?

            "What?" Rusty said, staring at me in disbelief. I was at a loss for words. "Moira, he's dangerous. He tried to hurt someone--"

            "He didn't _try _to hurt anyone. He was trying to save me." I looked up into Rusty's eyes, the truth pouring out. "Derek was trying to hurt me. If Jordan hadn't stopped him, I wouldn't be here right now."

            Rusty took a step back from me. "So now you're defending Jordan."

            "I'm not defending him," I said, crossing my arms across my chest. 

            Rusty shook his head. "Whatever." He turned and walked away from me. I could only watch him leave. 

*  *  *

            During seventh period, I was called down to the principal's office. As I walked to Mr. Richter's office, I thought about how I hadn't been down there in two weeks. Usually, I was in there every other day, because of me being a witch. I had avoided being everyone's problem until today.

            "Hello, Moira," Mr. Richter said, sounding almost friendly as I sat down in my usual seat. I gave him a _why are you acting strange look and slouched down in the chair. Mr. Richter sighed and said, "Moira, we need to talk."_

            "About?" I asked indifferently.

            "Mr. Crandon tells me you cut sixth period today."

            "Yeah. I did."

            Mr. Richter drummed his fingers on his desk. "You've never done this before."

            "First time for everything."

            "You've thrown students off their chairs with your powers, but you've never cut class."

            He was talking about Derek. I didn't want to think about Derek, or Jordan, or what Jordan almost did to Derek, which made my act against Derek seem stupid and childlike. I could tell by the way that Mr. Richter was half-smiling that he'd been trying to make a joke. I stared back at him sullenly.

            His half-smile faded. "I wish you'd talk to me about what's wrong."

            "What makes you think something is wrong?" I asked him.

            Mr. Richter shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I heard that you recently broke up with your boyfriend."

            I stared at him. "Mr. Richter, do you usually know this much about all your students' personal lives?"

            "Well, no. But you're a special case."

            "I'm sick of being a special case," I muttered, slouching down farther into the chair. "To answer your question, yes. Jordan broke up with me on Saturday. And I don't want to talk about why."

            Mr. Richter looked at me sympathetically. "Was it another girl?"

            I almost laughed. "I _wish _it was another girl, because, see, _that _would be normal. But since it's _me _and I can't have a normal life, everything is screwed up."

            The principal looked down, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Moira, is…is Jordan gay?"

            I just looked at him in disbelief. "No, Jordan is not _gay." I stood up, only wanting to leave._

            "Moira--"

            "Look, I already told you that I don't want to talk about it," I interrupted. "I'll serve detention with Mr. Crandon today after school, and everything will be good. Okay?"

            Mr. Richter looked a bit defeated. "Okay, Moira…but remember, I'm always here to talk to."

            "Uh huh." I picked up my backpack and walked out of his office. After thinking about our conversation, I realized that Alexa and Marissa were right.

            Apparently, it's against the laws of nature for me, Moira Riordan-Niall, to have any amount of normalcy in my life. I sighed. I hate being a witch.

*  *  *

            I walked out of Mr. Crandon's room as the end-of-detention bell rang. Mr. Crandon had looked really disappointed in me. Detention itself wasn't that bad. I did my homework for the forty-five minutes he kept me in his classroom. And now, I was finally free. Claire and Jamie had offered to wait for me and give me a ride home, but I turned them down, saying that I needed the peaceful walk home.

            As I walked away from the school, I felt someone's presence behind me. I twisted around and, to my horror, saw Jordan following me. My pulse sped up. What was he doing still at school? _Crap, I thought, walking a little faster. __I should have said yes to that ride. _

            A few minutes later, I looked back towards the school. Jordan had picked up his pace, too, his eyes narrowed on me. I snapped my head forward and tried to walk faster without it looking too noticeable. I heard fast steps behind me, and I looked one more time to actually see Jordan running towards me.

            _Okay, screw subtlety. _I turned and began sprinting down the street. My backpack bounced uncomfortably on my back, and I wanted desperately to throw it down on the ground. Jordan was gaining on me. "Moira! Moira, stop!"

            Suddenly, a voice inside me said, _Yeah, Moira. Stop. Stop and show this kid what a Riordan witch is made of._

I stopped and turned around to face Jordan. He slowed down as he neared me, breathing hard. His dirty blonde hair was falling into those light green eyes of his, and I was sickened to realize that my stomach still tied itself in knots when I looked at him. "What?" I asked him, my voice clipped and hard.

            "Moira, we need to talk," Jordan told me, looking straight into my eyes. He still gave me the shivers. 

            I looked away from him. "The only thing we need to talk about is why you lied to me."

            "I didn't lie to you," Jordan said, sounding almost honest.

            "Yeah, you just _forgot _to mention that you're a blood witch," I spat. "Jordan, I'm not stupid. I know who you really are. You're probably part of some dark coven planning on using my mother's and my dad's _and _my own power for your own evil purposes."

            Jordan stared at me for a moment. "…_What?"_

"Don't act so shocked just because I figured you out. I saw you writing in your Book of Shadows. Today, at lunch, where everyone can see!"

            "You mean my _journal?" _Jordan asked, yanking the leather-bound book from his backpack. "My aunt sent me this, for God's sake! It's a normal _journal."_

"Journal, Book of Shadows, it's all the same when you're a witch," I told him.

            "Why are you so scared?" he asked me suddenly.

            I stared at him. "I'm not _scared," I said crossly._

            "Then how come you can't even look at me ever since I—what did I do again? Oh yeah, saved your _life," _Jordan shot at me. "I don't believe I ever got a thank you for that."

            "Alright, here it is. _Thank you_ for using your evil powers to save me. I could have done it myself, you asshole," I quipped sarcastically. "You're evading my question. Tell me what big plan of yours am I a part of."

            "Oh, you mean the plan where we get married and have kids and grow old together? Because that's the only big plan that I have with you," Jordan answered, looking deep into my eyes.

            The shock took a second to pass. "So you admit you have other big plans?"

            "Moira, will you _listen to me?!" _Jordan yelled, grabbing my shoulders.

            "Let go of me!" I wretched myself away and punched Jordan, my fist colliding with his jaw. Jordan staggered backwards, bringing his hands up to his face. I turned and ran home. Images of what had happened in the woods flashed back to me. I'd just assaulted a sixteen-year-old witch who could throw white witch fire. There was definitely a battle in my near future.


	9. chapter nine: truths revealed

**[Author's Note]** Dude. Long time, no update, I know. And I am so sorry to those who have been waiting. But I got caught up with school stuff, and dance, and all that jazz…But, here's chapter nine, and I hope you enjoy! You know the Disclaimer deal: This is based on Cate Tiernan's Sweep book series, anything you recognize from Sweep is property of Mrs. Tiernan, and the rest is property of yours truly, except for the slight references to Harry Potter, which are property of J.K. Rowling. *breathes* Okay. Enjoy! **_((Katie))_**

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter Nine: Truths Revealed]

      I tore across my front lawn, yelling, "Mom! Mom!" I jammed my key into the door lock, opening the front door and slamming it closed behind me. "Mom!"

            Mom came running down the stairs, out of breath. "Moira! What's wrong?"

            I twisted the locks on the door, then traced a few sigils and muttered some words to spell it closed. I turned around to face her. "Mom, we're in trouble."

            She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

            "There's not much time to explain," I said, suddenly feeling like I was in an action-adventure movie. "I don't know how many of them will show up, but they're going to be powerful. Very powerful. We're going to need every defense spell, every ward-evil spell, binding spells, the works. And it really sucks that Dad's sick because we could use all the help we could get."

            "Moira, I don't understand--"

            "Mom! Stop trying to understand! We've got a witch battle to prepare for! Lock the doors, lock the windows, let's get going here!"

            Mom just stared at me. "What have you gotten us into this time?"

            "Look, Uncle Cal stalking me wasn't my fault," I told her. "But this is, because I let my guard down and now we're all in trouble, I'm serious. You need to heal Dad, now. With your powers. This is an emergency!"

            "Moira--" my mom started. But then, the doorbell rang.

            We both turned to stare at the door. Mom went to open it, but I grabbed her arm. "Don't answer that!"

            "Let go of me," Mom said, looking down at me with an annoyed expression. The doorbell rang again, and my mom opened her mouth to say something. But I slapped my hand over her mouth.

            "Do not even say a _word_," I instructed in a hiss. Mom mumbled a few cross words through my hand.

The doorbell rang a third time, and was accompanied by loud, persistent knocks. We stood there, silent, staring at the door.

            Suddenly we heard padding feet behind us. Mom and I turned to see my father standing in his bathrobe, looking horribly sick. His eyes were puffy, his hair was disheveled, and his skin was even paler than usual. Dad looked at the two of us with a bewildered expression, then asked in a croaky voice, "Aren't either of you going to answer the blasted door?" He stepped towards the front door.

            I turned and ran towards my room, throwing my backpack aside. "Moira, come back here!" my mother shouted after me.

            I burst into my room and immediately dragged my trunk full of magick supplies into the middle of the floor. This was a race against time, one that I wasn't sure I'd win. I grabbed a piece of chalk from the trunk, drew a large circle around the trunk and myself, and quickly sprinkled salt around the circle. As I took out the equipment from the trunk, I realized my hands were shaking. I spread the tablecloth on my trunk and plunked a chunk of crystal, a bowl with a stick of burning incense in it, a bowl of water, and a candle in each corner of my altar. I tried to concentrate on the candle and light it, but my focus was unsteady and I accidentally set the altar cloth on fire. I squeaked and used the water to put it out, spilling the liquid on the flames and then beating it with the copper bowl.

            "Moira?" I turned to see my mom standing in my doorway, looking worried, confused, and annoyed with me. "What is going--" She paused abruptly to sniff the air. "…Is something burning?"

            I jumped up. "Mom, there's not much time, we have to do ward-evil spells and…where's Dad?"

            "He answered the door."

            I stared at my mother. "You let him answer the door?" I asked her in a horrified whisper. "You let him answer the _door? You just let my father, who is currently the weakest witch we have on our side, answer the door for the unadulterated, unimaginable jaws of __evil?!"  I grabbed her arms and shook her a little. "For the love of _God _what were you thinking?!"_

Mom stared back at me open-mouthed. "What are you _talking about?!"_

            At that moment, my door opened, and my father stood in the doorway with none other than Jordan. I jumped and hid behind my mother, choking out the only words I could think of. "Cal! Cal with blonde hair!"

            My dad and Jordan looked at each other. "I think I'm hallucinating," Dad said dazedly.

            "Dad, get away from him," I said. "He's probably the reason why you're so sick. He wanted to weaken you!" Jordan winced at my words, and I looked at him hard. His jaw was set, and I could see a small bruise forming where I'd hit him. His usually bright green eyes were filled with pain and red around the rims.

            "Moira, what do you mean?" Mom asked grimly, beginning to wrap her mind around what I was saying.

            "He's a blood witch, Mom," I told her. "He's really powerful. He lied to me."

            "No. I. Didn't." Jordan looked at me fiercely, though sadness reflected in his eyes. "I didn't lie to you, Moira. I never have, and I never will. I would never want to deceive you."

            "You think I'm just going to _believe you?" I asked him. "You almost killed someone. I will __never forget that. Give me one good reason why I should _ever _trust you again!" I turned away from him, crossing my arms across my chest._

            A silence followed. Mom touched my shoulder, but I shook it off. Then, I heard Jordan's voice. "I, your God, am a jealous God. Thou shalt have no other gods before me."

            I whipped around, looking at him quizzically. Jordan continued. "Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain. Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy."

            "What?" Nothing he was saying was making any sense to me. What was he talking about?

            "Thou shalt honor thy father and mother. Thou shalt not murder. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not steal," Jordan said, looking deep into my eyes.

            Dad looked as confused as I felt. I turned to Mom, who looked like she actually had an inkling of what was going on. "Mom, what's he talking about?"

            "He's reciting the Ten Commandments," she explained quietly. "It's part of the Christian religion."

            "If what you're saying is true," Jordan said evenly, "if I was raised a witch, and knew about the Wiccan religion my whole life, how would I know the Ten Commandments?"

            I was undaunted. "A good cover?"

            "Damn it, Moira!" Jordan lost control of his emotions then, and his explosion made me take a step back. If Jordan had been holding anything at the time, he would've thrown it across the room; I could tell. "What do I have to do to make you trust me?" he yelled at me, angry, pained tears spilling across his face. "I am trying to deal with the fact that my whole past is a _lie, _and the one person who might have the tiniest idea of what I'm going through thinks I'm _evil. Sorry about what I did, I'll never try to save your life again."_

            Silence. Jordan was looking at me, breathing unsteadily, with tears still dripping down his cheeks. Mom looked shocked. Dad still looked like he'd be waking up from this strange dream any second now. And I was trying to accept the fact that maybe I overreacted about Jordan. 

            "Hunter, why don't you take Jordan downstairs?" Mom finally said quietly. "So Moira and I can talk."

            "Oh, yes. Of course." Dad took Jordan's arm and led him towards my door. "You look like you could use some tea." 

            Jordan followed my dad, looking at me as he left. I had been rendered speechless. The whole day had felt surreal, and now I felt like the collective emotions in this house would suffocate me. 

            "Okay, sit down," Mom instructed, pushing me gently down onto my bed. "Explain, from the top. What was Jordan talking about, saving your _life?"_

I sighed. "Well, Saturday…wasn't all I cracked it up to be."

            "Figures," Mom quipped, flopping down next to me.

            "Well, I went to the woods to meet Jordan, like I planned, but I found these kids there instead, and one of them was that kid I used my magick against a few weeks ago, remember? So, he kind of had a score to settle…" I glanced down at my right ankle and said, "That's how my ankle got hurt. And…Derek probably would have killed me if Jordan hadn't shown up." I took a deep breath. "Mom, he threw white witch fire. He wouldn't be able to do that if he really didn't know he was a blood witch. _You couldn't even do that when you first found out. It took a couple of months before you could throw _white _witch fire."_

            Mom looked totally perplexed. "So…he threw white witch fire. To protect you." I nodded. She thought for a few moments before speaking again. "Moira, I know you're not going to believe this, but I don't think Jordan is evil."

            I stared at her. "Mom. He cracked a tree in half."

            "He was trying to protect you," Mom reiterated. "Sometimes, when your emotions are strong enough, your power is stronger than it usually is. Jordan genuinely cares about you, and he was afraid you were going to die. So, his powers acted the strongest that they knew how." I just looked back at her, not willing to change my mind. Mom sighed, and said, "This is one of the reasons why I didn't _want _to tell you about what happened to me because of Cal. I didn't want you to grow up afraid."

            "Mom, I'm growing up armed with _facts. I'm prepared; I'm on my guard--"_

            "You're downright neurotic."

            "I am _not _neurotic," I protested indignantly.

            She rolled her eyes. "I let your father answer the door to the jaws of evil, remember? Jordan's sixteen years old! Even if he had evil intentions, he'd hardly be another Ciaran MacEwan." Mom shuddered slightly at her father's name.

            I looked away from my mother, down at my hands folded in my lap. "Mom…you didn't see what I saw in the woods. Jordan could have killed someone. I can't forget that."

            Mom nodded. "I know that what Jordan did was unsafe. Really unsafe. But, like I said, his powers reacted for him, and he wanted to protect you. It's not his fault."

            "But, how could you even be sure of it? After Cal--"

            Mom brought her finger to my lips, hushing me. "Sweetie, think about this. Do you really believe Jordan had any evil intent when he threw the white witch fire?" I closed my eyes, trying to detach myself from the fear I'd felt on Saturday. I replayed the scene in my head. Derek's friend held me against the tree. I kicked Derek in the stomach. Derek picked up the rock. Jordan threw white witch fire at Derek. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had seriously overreacted.

            "I feel stupid," I declared inadequately.

            "You're not stupid, just overly concerned," Mom told me, hugging me. "Now, let's go talk to Jordan."

            We walked down the stairs together into the kitchen. Dad was just taking the kettle off the stove, and Jordan was sitting at the table. He looked like a wreck, so utterly defeated and depressed. Immediately I felt guilty about how I'd treated him. His eyes slid towards me, and then he turned his head to face me. How did I even begin to apologize to him?

            "I'm sorry I punched you in the face." Well, that was one way to start.

            Mom looked at me in disbelief. "You _punched him?"_

            "He grabbed me!" I protested.

            "You _grabbed _her?" my father squeaked at Jordan. "Where?!"

            "By the _shoulders, _Dad," I clarified, rolling my eyes.

            "She's got quite a punch," Jordan murmured. We all kind of shut up when we heard his voice, so sad and quiet. He took a deep breath. "All I want to know is what's happening to me. I don't understand any of this."

            Mom sat down in a chair across from Jordan. "I know how you're feeling right now. I went through the same thing." She, too, took a deep breath, and said, "What you need to do is talk to your parents."

            "My parents are dead," Jordan told my mom. "I live with my grandmother."

            "I'm sorry. I didn't know," Mom apologized. "So, you should talk to your grandmother. I know it won't be easy, but that's the only way you'll get any answers." 

            Jordan looked down. "Okay. But I can't do it alone." He looked at me.

            "Well, duh," I said, grabbing Jordan's arm and walking him towards our door.

*  *  *

            A few minutes later Jordan and I were nearing his house. We hadn't said much to each other the whole way there. Things were still awkward between Jordan and me. In no time, we were standing at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the O'Briens' door.

            Jordan turned to me. "Thanks for coming with me," he said quietly, looking into my eyes.

            I shrugged. "It's nothing. Really."

            "No, you don't get it," Jordan insisted. "I'm not…like you. I'm not bold or determined or anything. I just try to go with the flow. If I came alone, I wouldn't have the nerve to interrogate Grams. She's kind of unapproachable. I couldn't do it. You're tenacious. You don't let things go. You're strong."

            "Well, the flip side of that is I'm stubborn, hard-headed, and annoyingly opinionated," I told him. "So don't envy my qualities too much." I took Jordan's hand, facing palm-up, and traced a symbol on it. "The rune Ur," I explained. "For strength."

            Jordan took his hand away and looked at his palm. The mark I'd made had left a slightly raised design on his skin. He slid his hand into his pocket and nodded at me. "You ready?"

            I nodded back, and we walked up the steps. Jordan opened the door and stepped inside. "Grams?"

            An elderly woman walked through a hallway opposite the door. I was taller than her by two inches, at least, and she had gray hair pulled back in a bun and was wearing a classic white apron. "Jordan! I was expecting you sooner! Where have you been?" Mrs. O'Brien then noticed that I was standing next to Jordan. "Oh. Who's this?" She was eyeing my hair suspiciously. I stared back at her. 

            "Moira's from school," Jordan told her, and I suddenly realized that I'd gone unmentioned in the O'Brien household. _Gee, I feel so important, I sent to Jordan in a witch message. His head snapped around to look at me, surprised. I simply raised my eyebrows._

            "Oh." Mrs. O'Brien wiped her hands on her apron. "Well, is she staying for dinner?" 

            "I don't know," Jordan said, looking into his grandmother's pale blue eyes. "Grams, I need to talk to you." She raised her eyebrows. "I need to talk to you about my parents."

            "Oh, Jordan, we've talked about your parents," Mrs. O'Brien dismissed him, waving the request off. "I told you what they were like. I've shown you pictures."

            "One picture. You've shown me one picture," Jordan corrected her, sounding like he was starting to put puzzle pieces together. "I need to know the truth. The whole truth."

            Mrs. O'Brien rested a hand on her hip. "Jordan, what's this about? Why are you doing this, especially in front of company?" Jordan began to cast his eyes downward, and my stomach fell. _No, no, you can't let her intimidate you…_

            "He knows he's a witch." Jordan and Mrs. O'Brien turned to stare at me, and I immediately felt like I'd done the wrong thing. But I couldn't let Jordan back down.

            I caught something in Mrs. O'Brien's eyes, though. It was a twinge of fear. "Jordan, what is all this?"

            "It's true. I know I'm a witch," Jordan confirmed quietly, but firmly. "I know I have powers. I used them to save Moira."

            "No," his grandmother whispered, almost to herself. "No. I took you away from this." Jordan stared at her.

            "Why don't we all sit down?" I suggested, looking from grandmother to grandson. Jordan nodded curtly and led me into a small living room. Mrs. O'Brien followed us.

            We all sat down, Mrs. O'Brien in an armchair and Jordan and I on the couch. "I need to know the truth, Grams," Jordan said, his voice sounding icy. 

            His grandmother took a deep breath. She looked like she didn't know where to begin. "Must we discuss this with Moira here?" Mrs. O'Brien asked Jordan, looking pained. 

            "It doesn't matter, I'd just tell her afterwards," Jordan replied. "Now explain."

            Mrs. O'Brien looked slightly taken aback by Jordan's stern answer. "This isn't easy for me to talk about," she began slowly. I watched her with almost fascination. What exactly was she hiding? "I guess the best way for me to start is…Jordan, I'm not your biological grandmother. I was your grandfather's second wife."

            _Dun dun duuunnn, _I added inside my head. _Welcome to Soap Opera City._

"What?" Jordan whispered.

            "Your grandfather's first wife died when your father was twelve. His older brother and sister were fourteen and fifteen, respectively. I never asked why or how." Mrs. O'Brien looked down at her hands, mulling things over. "I met Luke five years later. He seemed like a nice man, and his feelings for me were clear. But then I found out his secret. He was a witch, just as his first wife was, and his children." Her whole expression tensed, like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Of course, I didn't believe him. We were at a diner at the time, and I told him it was absolute nonsense. Witches weren't real. But he shook his head sadly. 'They are,' he told me. And then he did something…unnatural. He made the salt float up in the air. Right in public. Anyone could've seen. Of course, I was horrified. There's nothing normal about people making things fly. So I told him that I refused to see him again." I frowned. That didn't seem fair.

            "So how did you end up marrying him?" Jordan asked, looking confused.

            "Luke came to my house a few days later. He looked sick and pale. Luke told me he wasn't a witch anymore, that he'd stripped himself of his magick. I almost didn't believe him, but Luke swore to me his days of being a witch were over. So I said I'd see him again, and we got married the next year." Mrs. O'Brien's face became drawn as she continued. "Four years later Luke passed away. Your father and aunt and uncle all claimed that I was the reason, for forcing him to strip himself of his magick, for not accepting him for who he was."

            _And they were right, _I thought grimly.

            "I don't get it then," Jordan said. "Why do you have me? Are my parents really dead?"

            "Yes, they're dead. And it was their magick that killed them."

            Jordan suddenly looked furious. "You told me they died in a car accident."

            "You ripped off J.K. Rowling," I added. They both stared at me, and I looked down at my hands. "Sorry. Shutting up."

            "I told you they were found in a car," Mrs. O'Brien corrected him, sounding guilt-ridden. "Or at least what was left of the car. It couldn't be explained by the police, or by anyone else."

            "So what happened?" Jordan asked. For the first time I deliberately tried to sense his feelings. Waves of confusion, sadness, and fear were coming off him. I reached out a little and put my hand over his. 

            "I asked your aunt and uncle the same thing, when they told me your father, Liam, and your mother, Mary Anne, had died. They said it was a destructive force." I sucked in a sharp breath of air as she said, "They called it a dark wave. Apparently, Liam and Mary Anne knew one was coming for their coven of witches. They could feel it, or something. So they took you and drove up to where your aunt Nora lived, and put you in her care. They died driving back to their home."

            Jordan's breath was coming shallower now. "That still doesn't answer my question. What am I doing here?"

            "Well, naturally when Nora told me she had you, I told her I'd take you in," Mrs. O'Brien told him. "I took you away from all that witchcraft. It's for your own good. I raised you to be a nice, normal boy--"

            "You took him away from his _family," I interrupted, not being able to listen to this anymore. "You went against his parents' wishes and you took him away from his real family. And because of what? Because they were witches? Because they were __different?" I was standing now, angrier than I could ever remember being before. "Witches might be __different, but that doesn't mean we're __bad. That doesn't mean you're _better _than we are. It just means we're _different, _and you had _no right--"__

Mrs. O'Brien was standing now, too. She was staring at my neck. At my necklace. The one with the pentacle on it. My skin crawled at the way she was staring at me. "You…" she whispered, sounding almost strangled. "You…you're a _witch."_

Things happened quickly after that. Mrs. O'Brien grabbed my arm with a grip like a vise and hauled me out of the living room. I felt almost trapped; Mrs. O'Brien was an elderly woman and Jordan's grandmother. Step grandmother, actually. I couldn't be rough with her or anything. But soon I wish I had done something in my own defense, because in the next second Mrs. O'Brien had opened the front door and literally thrown me out. 

            I fell onto my side and rolled down the steps, scraping my face on the cement. "Grams!" Jordan shouted, sounding angry and shocked. I lay there on the ground for a few seconds, my jaw dropped open, too stunned to even feel the pain. _I just got thrown down a flight of steps by a little old lady._ "Grams, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled again.

            I heard the sound of Mrs. O'Brien slapping Jordan, and I sprang up and faced her. "Go to your room!" Mrs. O'Brien screamed at Jordan, and then she turned her attention to me. "You stay away from my grandson."

            "You can't hide his past from him forever," I shot back. I touched my lip gently, and when I pulled my fingers back, crimson blood covered them. I looked up at Mrs. O'Brien in disbelief. "You split my lip!" Mrs. O'Brien just gave me a look, then slammed the door.

            I stood there, staring for a few moments, wondering if Jordan's step grandmother was more insane than my half-uncle Cal Blaire had been. Finally, I turned around and walked home. The shock of Jordan's parents' story still shook me, and I wished that I could be with Jordan. _Jordan, I thought, remembering how I'd treated him. _Goddess, if I'd only known then what we both know now. If we only knew…__


	10. chapter ten: fight

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

****

[Chapter Ten: Fight]

      _Later, April 19th_

_                        I never thought I'd say this, but I hate Grams._

_                        She finally told me the real story about my parents. They were blood witches, so I am too. Moira stayed with me while I found out the truth—And I'm glad._

_                         Grams hates the truth. She hates all blood witches, just because they're different. She took me away from the family my parents wanted me to have. And then she hurt Moira--she threw her down the front steps and cut her lip. All because she hates witches. And then she sent me up to my room when I yelled at her. I was so mad that I punched my wall and put a dent in it. _

_                        So now I know the truth. Grams isn't my biological grandmother. She's just my step grandmother. My parents didn't die in a car crash. Someone sent a dark wave to kill them. And this journal wasn't meant to be just a journal. My aunt sent me this to be my Book of Shadows, like Moira called it._

_                        And it is._

_                                                                                    --Jordan_

My parents were furious when I came home with a split lip. Luckily, I'd been wearing layers that day, so I'd taken off my top shirt and used it as a compress for my lip. They wanted to press charges against Mrs. O'Brien for physical assault, but I told them it wasn't worth it. She'd probably just find a way to blame me.

            The night wore on, and it was now late, in the earliest hours of morning. I was lying in bed, thinking. Jordan's parents had been killed by a dark wave. I sighed; I always felt a sick twist of guilt whenever dark waves were mentioned. My family had had their share of dark wave horrors: My father's parents had abandoned Dad and his brother and sister when they fled the dark wave that had been targeted on them. My grandmother, Maeve Riordan, had gone into hiding after a dark wave had wiped out her coven, Belwicket. And my parents had to face a dark wave when they were only seventeen and nineteen, because Ciaran MacEwan, my infamous grandfather, had targeted their coven when Mom wouldn't join him and his dark coven. The guilt I felt was due to my own connection to the dark wave: Ciaran MacEwan's ancestor, Rose MacEwan, had created the dark wave. Therefore making my mother and me descendants, as well. I knew my parents had Rose's Book of Shadows somewhere, but I'd never read it. I didn't really care about how she'd created the destructive force that became the Wiccan equivalent to a holocaust. 

            I also thought about how Mrs. O'Brien's fear of witches had consumed her. My mom's adoptive parents had always been horrified by my powers, but they never threw me down a flight of concrete steps. I wondered with a twinge of fear what would happen now that Jordan knew about his Wiccan heritage. Would she finally learn to accept it? Would she force him to stop his Wicca training? _She can't do that, _I thought angrily. I wished that Mrs. O'Brien had never taken it upon herself to take Jordan out of his aunts' care. _If she hadn't been so self-righteous…_

_            …You may have never met Jordan, _a logical part of me reasoned. I folded my arms under my head and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe this all had to happen. Maybe Jordan had to go through this for a reason. Maybe this was all fated.

            That thought made me sit straight up in bed. _Fated? Had that idea really been formed by _me, _the unbeliever of destiny?  I shivered. Was I really starting to believe that fate had to do with Jordan and me?_

            A persistent tapping noise made me jump. I looked towards my window and saw Jordan's face pressed up against the glass. I got up from my bed and crossed my room quickly. Jordan was standing on top of a ladder leaned up against my house. I yanked the window open and let him in. "Jordan, what are you doing here?" I whispered. I looked back out the window. "Where'd you get the ladder?"

            "I carried it from home," he whispered back.

            I stared at him. "You walked all the way from your house carrying a ladder?"

            "How else was I supposed to get to your room?" Jordan asked me. A streetlight illuminated the top half of Jordan's face, making his eyes sparkle despite the pain inside them. 

            "Why did you come? It's so late," I said, wondering what had happened after I'd been kicked out of Jordan's house.

            "I couldn't stay in that house," Jordan answered bitterly. His eyes lingered on my lip. It was swollen now. "I can't believe my grandmother…"

            "I've seen worse," I told him, cracking a wry smile.

            Jordan just looked into my eyes. I realized then that we'd never officially gotten back together. We'd never officially broken up, either. Who made these rules about dating, anyway? Were they actual rules or was I just making them up as I went along?

            I watched as Jordan leaned down, and his lips gently pressed against mine. My bottom lip stung a little, but I stayed in the kiss, putting my arms around Jordan. After a few seconds, I pulled away a little but kept my arms around Jordan, and he rested his forehead on my shoulder, holding onto me tight. He sniffled, and I could feel his tears soaking my shoulder. I stroked his dirty blonde hair and sighed, staring out the window at the moon. Jordan and I had only known each other for a short time, but we'd already been through so much. My thoughts flashed to Romeo and Juliet. They'd fallen in love, gotten married, and killed themselves in four days. Fate had seriously screwed them over. So what did it have in store for Jordan and me?

            "Moira?" Jordan and I disentangled ourselves from each other and I looked towards my door. Mom was standing in my doorway, squinting in the darkness. "Moira, what's going on?"

            "I'm sorry," Jordan apologized, wiping his arm across his face. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I just…I just couldn't stay at my grandmother's house." He glanced back at me. "And I'm really sorry about what my grandmother did to Moira. It was totally out of line, and I'm really sorry."

            Mom just nodded, twisting her unruly hair into a braid and letting it hang down her back. "I understand. But you're not going to be able to stay up in Moira's room all night."

            Jordan nodded, and I said, "I'll set him up on the couch." As Jordan walked past my mother and I followed, Mom stopped me. "You look…different." The tiny smile she wore on her face told me she'd sensed my feelings about fate.

            I scowled at her. "I've been listening to your mùirn beatha dàn psychobabble for way too long." Mom just giggled and went back to her room.

            I picked up an extra pillow and a blanket from the hall closet, and Jordan followed me downstairs. I propped the pillow up at one end of the couch and spread the blanket across the cushions. Jordan kicked his shoes off and sat down on the couch, looking pensive. "What I don't get is, when my parents gave me to my aunt…why didn't they just stay there? The dark wave wouldn't have killed them," Jordan said in a quiet, sad voice.

            I sighed. "They were targets of the dark wave," I told him. "If they had left their town, the dark wave would have just followed them, and if they had stayed at your aunts, then the dark wave would have gotten your parents _and _you _and your aunt and her family. They did what was best." I sat down next to Jordan and put an arm around him. "I know it hurts, and I know that if the dark wave hadn't killed your parents, a lot of things would be different, but…sometimes things just have to happen. And I know it sucks, but…sometimes stuff has to happen."_

            Jordan nodded sadly. "Well, I guess we better get to sleep…we have school tomorrow."

            I just looked at him. "Of all people, I didn't expect you to be worried about going to school tomorrow."

            He shrugged. "I just want things to be normal. I know that it's never really gonna be normal again, but…"

            I nodded, understanding. "It'll get better. Trust me." I kissed his forehead and got up from the couch. "Sweet dreams."

            "'Bout you." 

            I glanced back at Jordan, a bit surprised. He wore the smallest grin, wry, but loving. I smiled and thought about what Mom had implied. Were Jordan and I really… mùirn beatha dàns? 

            _I've been listening to Mom waaaaay too long…_

*  *  *

            The next morning, when I walked downstairs into the living room, Jordan was still sleeping. I considered letting him sleep—for a second. Then, an evil grin crept onto my face as I kicked off my sneakers and took a few steps back. Then, I did something I've always sort of wanted to do.

            "WAKE UP!" I took a few running steps and threw myself onto Jordan. He screamed and threw me back onto the floor, and I took the blanket with me.

            Mom hurried in from the kitchen. "What is going _on in here?"_

            I sat on the floor for a second. "Wow…that was fun!" Jordan just groaned and flopped down on the couch. Mom gave me a _What am I going to do with you? look and went back into the kitchen. I smiled to myself and looked back at Jordan. His left jeans leg was scrunched up, and I caught a glimpse of something on his ankle. "Hey…"_

            I got up and pulled his left foot up so I could look at it more closely. "Aw, Moira, come _on," _Jordan muttered angrily, trying to twist his leg away from my grip.

            "Mom, look at this!" I said, ignoring Jordan.

            My mother walked back out to the living room. "What is it now?"

            I tapped a small, dagger-shaped birthmark on Jordan's ankle. "Look. The Woodbane athame."

            "Oh, that's all?" Mom gave me a slightly annoyed look; she was still cranky about being woken up last night. I shrugged, and Mom went back into the kitchen.

            "What did you say?" Jordan sat up a little, looking at his foot in my hands. His hair was sticking up in all different directions. It looked adorable.

            "It's the Woodbane athame," I repeated, releasing his ankle. "It's something that most Woodbanes have somewhere on their bodies. Not all Woodbanes have it, but many do. I have one, in fact." I lifted my shirt a little bit to reveal my birthmark, which was on my upper stomach. 

            Jordan ran his hand through his hair. "Wow. So back during the witch trials, when they looked for a devil's mark…there was actually something for them to look for?"

            "Well, since there's no devil in Wicca, it's not really a devil's mark. And, not all Woodbanes have it, plus there are six other clans besides. The other clans have their own characteristics, but none of them are as definitive as the Woodbane athame."

            Jordan looked at his birthmark in interest. "So I'm Woodbane."

            I nodded. "How do you feel about that?"

            He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm stuck between knowing the Woodbane history and knowing that not all Woodbanes are dark witches." Jordan shifted uncomfortably. "What if Grams was on to something? What if my real family is…evil?"

            I shook my head. "From what she told us, that seems very unlikely. Traditional dark Woodbanes fight for power at any cost—and your grandfather stripped himself of his magick in the name of love. That's not typical dark witch behavior. And usually, dark witches aren't the victims of dark waves—they're the creators. I don't think you have to worry about your family being evil."

            Mom walked into the living room, holding some of Dad's clothes. "You can borrow these, Jordan. The bathroom's upstairs. Moira, eat your breakfast. You're both going to be late." Jordan and I got ready for school quickly, and Mom drove us over in her antique car, Das Boot. 

            Everyone stared at Jordan and me when we walked into school together. Crowds parted, jaws dropped. I slipped my hand into Jordan's and squeezed it. He squeezed back, and we walked to my locker. 

            Claire, Jamie, and Courtney were there when we got to my locker, and they stared first at Jordan, then at me. Courtney's eyes were round and fearful; Claire's were narrowed and cynical; Jamie's were confused. "What's going on…?" Jamie asked slowly.

            Jordan and I glanced at each other. "Well," I said, "It's a long story, but the bottom line is, Jordan's not evil." The three of them stared. "Isn't that great?" I laughed nervously.

            "I'm thrilled, trust me," Claire said dryly, giving Jordan a calculating glare. Jordan matched her gaze evenly, but said nothing.

            "How can you be sure?" Courtney asked me.

            I sighed and twirled my combination lock open. "I just…am. I told you, it's a long story. But I know he's not evil."

            Rusty walked past then. He stared at Jordan and me together, and he immediately looked angry. He glowered scathingly at Jordan, and I slipped my arm around Jordan's waist. "We were wrong about Jordan," I told Rusty. "He's not evil."

            Rusty didn't say a word, just simply went on his way. You could practically feel a cold breeze sweep through the hallway. "Do you want me to talk to Rusty for you?" Jamie offered.

            "You can try, but that kid's a brick wall," I said shortly, slamming my locker shut. It looked like my first coven was about to be split in two.

*  *  *

            I ran out of the library as the end-of-fifth period bell rang. I'd been studying for the test in Global History next period. Just as I turned the corner and was about to go into my classroom, I heard someone yelling my name.

            "Moira! Moira!" I turned around and saw Courtney careening through the halls. She ducked around students, bisected a group of juniors, and leapt over a kid hunched over his untied shoe. 

            "Wow," I said as she slowed to a quick halt in front of me. "Forget cheerleading, you could be the new quarterback."

            "Hurry," Courtney said, sounding out of breath. "You gotta come with me, quick…" She grabbed my arm and started running in the direction from which she'd come.

            "Wait, Courtney, I can't. I have a test this period, and Crandon's gonna kill me if I cut again!" My legs betrayed my better judgment, however, as they followed Courtney down the hall.

            Courtney pulled me down the stairs and around to a side door of the school. "Courtney, what is going--" My sentence was cut short as I squeaked and jumped out of the way of a flying Jordan.

            Yes. I said, a flying Jordan.

            He landed hard on his back, and I heard a painful groan. I whipped my head to the other side to see Rusty coming towards him. "What the hell is this, WWF Death Match?" I asked, running into the fray. 

            I grabbed Rusty's arm and pulled him back, yelling, "Rusty! Stop it _now." _Not only was I worried about Jordan, but I'd seen what he could do when someone pissed him off enough. Rusty was taller, bigger, and stronger than Jordan physically, but Jordan was a sixteen-year-old uninitiated witch who could throw white witch fire. This had the potential to get seriously messy.

            "Get off me," Rusty growled, and he threw me off his arm, making me stumble backwards and fall.

            Jordan had gotten back up, and was standing in front of Rusty, looking defiant. Rusty took a swing at him, but Jordan ducked and shoved Rusty onto the ground. Around them kids were rooting them on, and I half expected someone to be taking bets on the outcome. _Ugh. Testosterone. I got up and decided to take matters into my own magickal hands. I raised my arms, prepared to put a binding spell on them that would stop them dead in their tracks._

            "What is going on here?" I snapped my arms to my sides as Mr. Richter walked outside, traveling with long, purposeful strides. His eyes locked first onto Jordan and Rusty, and he took them both by the arm. Then Mr. Richter saw me.

            "You know what? I actually have nothing to do with this," I told him, holding my arms up in surrender. But Mr. Richter curled his finger towards me in a _get your butt over here_ gesture, and I sighed grudgingly and followed him into the building.

            Once we got into Mr. Richter's office, Jordan and Rusty sat down in the two chairs in front of Mr. Richter's desk, and I stood behind them. Mr. Richter pulled two files out of his file cabinet and sat down in his leather chair. He looked them over. "Jordan O'Brien." Jordan nodded his acknowledgement. "Russell McDown." I blinked as Rusty shifted in response; I'd never heard him be called by his full name. "Neither of you have had anything like this on your records before. Jordan, you haven't even been here that long. Your permanent record in your old school was clear; I'm surprised you'd start now."

            "It's not my fault," Jordan grumbled.

            "Well, how did the fight start?" Mr. Richter asked, folding his hands on his desk. Jordan and I immediately looked at Rusty. Rusty looked sullenly back at us. "Well?"

            "Jordan's a witch," Rusty said. "Like Moira. Only evil."

            "You sound like you're five," I told him.

            Mr. Richter looked perplexed. "Jordan, is this true?"

            "All, except the evil part," Jordan said.

            The principal turned to me. "Moira?"

            I grinned. "Welcome to the new Salem."

            Mr. Richter sat back in his chair, blown away by this news. "Wow. I never gave much thought to there being other witches besides Moira. Russell, what made you think Jordan was evil?"

            "He attacked another student," Rusty told him. "Derek Boles."

            "And where have we heard _that name before?" I retorted._

            "I didn't intend to attack Derek," Jordan said solemnly. "He was trying to hurt Moira when I found them, and stuff just…happened. I didn't even know I was a witch before yesterday."

            "They should just rename this place Dawson's Creek," I quipped, crossing my arms across my chest.

            "Moira, please," Mr. Richter said, rubbing his temples.

            "Hey, you dragged me in here."

            Mr. Richter focused once again on Jordan and Rusty. "Again, how did this fight start? Jordan?"

            Jordan sighed. "I was sitting alone at lunch, and about five minutes before the end of the period, Rusty grabbed me and dragged me outside and started fighting me. I was just acting in self-defense. Most of the time."

            "If you call in Courtney Hartford, she can probably testify," I added.

            "Moira, this isn't Law & Order, this is the Widow's Vale High justice system," Mr. Richter told me, sounding exasperated. Turning to Rusty, he inquired, "And your reason for grabbing Jordan was…?" 

            Rusty shrugged. "I was worried about Moira." I rolled my eyes.

            Mr. Richter shuffled papers on his desk around. "Well, I'll be calling both your parents—your grandmother, in your case, Jordan. Rusty, you'll have two days of suspension, and Jordan, you will have one." Rusty began to protest, but Mr. Richter cut him off, saying, "Like Jordan said, he was acting in self-defense. You were looking for trouble. And Moira?"

            I arched my left eyebrow. "Yes?"

            "How do you keep getting yourself into messes like this?"

            I shrugged. "Guess I'm just lucky." We were all dismissed from the office, Jordan and Rusty sat in chairs in the main office, and for once, I walked free from the principal's office. I couldn't help but want to stay, though; the fury in Rusty's eyes wasn't going to be extinguished anytime soon.


	11. chapter eleven: promise

**Shadow Girl**

**Book Two: Soul Searching**

[Chapter Eleven: Promise]

      _April 23rd_

_                        This past week hasn't been easy. Even though Moira trusts me again, not many other people at school do. If Moira isn't in the cafeteria, I sit alone. People either hate me or are afraid of me._

_                        It's damn near impossible at home. Grams barely speaks to me, and I barely speak to her. The one time I did speak to her was yesterday. I've made a decision. It's one of the hardest ones I've ever made._

_                        I don't even want to write it down yet—it still doesn't feel real. I haven't even told Moira yet. I don't know how. I'm going to have to soon, though. I don't have much more time._

_                                                                                                --Jordan_

On Saturday morning, Jordan and I walked together to the high school. Jordan had some photography class project that he had to work on, but he couldn't do it during school. Jordan had wanted some shots of me in the library, and he told me the librarian said he'd have to do it after school hours.

            "You know, I'm pretty sure she meant right after school. You know, on a school day?" I said as we walked up the steps. I tried the door; it was locked. "Now what?"

            "I guess we just have to wait until someone comes and sees us," Jordan said, pushing his face up against the window in the door. "And then we have to hope they let us in."

            We stood around for a few minutes. Then, I started thinking about it. "Jordan. We're witches."

            Jordan looked at me. "Yeah. So?"

            "So why are we waiting around? We can let our_selves in."_

            A slow smile crept onto his face. "We can?"

            "As long as you _never _tell my parents. They'd kill me, especially Dad." I stood in front of the doorway and lay both my hands on the doors, closing my eyes, concentrating. Focus. I thought up a quick, easy spell. _Clear a path; make a road, so we can continue where we must go. I overcome this stumbling block and tell this door to be unlocked. _I visualized the lock turning itself open, and within seconds, I heard a deep _click. I grinned and pulled the door open._

            "Nice," Jordan commented, looking at me with admiration. I just smiled and pulled Jordan through the empty halls.

            About halfway to the library, Jordan decided it would be fun to start tickling me. "Jordan, stop!" I gasped, laughing. One thing you probably wouldn't guess about me is that I'm extremely ticklish. My parents—and now, Jordan—are the only people that know. I ran down the hall, trying to get away for Jordan. "I swear, if you don't stop, I'm gonna put a binding spell on you so bad you--"

            Suddenly I heard the jangling of keys. My eyes went wide. "Keep back." I pushed Jordan up against the wall and put myself next to him. Jordan opened his mouth to say something, but I covered it with my hand. "Shh. Someone's coming. Repeat after me, okay?" Jordan nodded, and I took my hand away from his mouth. "Okay. You see me not, I am but a shadow." I said it again, and then Jordan started saying it. 

            The janitor rounded the corner, and Jordan and I froze. Clearly, the janitor had heard us coming down the hall, and was looking for the trespassers. "Hello? Who's there?" The handy thing about see-me-not spells is that while they don't necessarily make you invisible, they make you unnoticeable. Jordan and I were right in front of the janitor, but he didn't see us. His eyes glossed over us like we'd blended in with the lockers we were up against. Jordan's eyes were wide with wonder. Finally, the janitor left.

            "That was awesome…" Jordan said, sounding completely in awe.

            I grinned. "You know how I was telling you about what I used to do when I was a little kid?" Jordan nodded, and I smirked and said, "Well, it only gets better when you're a teen." Jordan wiggled his eyebrows, and we went on our way towards the library.

            The library doors were locked, too, but this time I let Jordan give my door-unlock spell a try. It took him a few minutes more than it had taken me, but he finally triumphed, smiling at me. I felt proud of him; breaking and entering was infinitely preferable to white witch fire.

            "So, why the library?" I asked once we walked inside. I hopped onto a table and swung my legs back and forth, waiting for Jordan's answer.

            Jordan smiled shyly. "I sort of wanted to recapture the day we met."

            I giggled. "Well then, you're gonna need a crystal I can look horrified at." Jordan cracked up as I practiced "shocked" faces for the camera.

            "You know, now that I think about it, that rock you were holding--"

            "Crystal, Jordan. It was a crystal."

            "Okay, okay, that _crystal _you were holding had something to do with you being a witch. Didn't it?"

            I blushed. "Yeah. It did." Jordan snapped a few pictures of me, then sat next to me on the table, waiting for an explanation for the crystal. "Well, the crystal I had was my mom's name stone. Morganite."

            Jordan raised his eyebrows. "Any relation to kryptonite?"

            I smiled and shook my head no. "Morganite is a form of beryl. If a blood witch holds it and sends energy into it, they see an image of what's deepest in their hearts."

            Jordan cracked a smile. "I see where this is going."

            "So I was trying to figure out what the crystal was—it's not an easy crystal to identify. Morganite's kind of rare. And I sent some energy into the crystal…and I saw you."

            "That would explain your reaction when I came over and said hi," Jordan said, smiling at me. We sat looking at each other for a few minutes. Then Jordan said, "I've been reading about how some blood witches have ancestral memories of spells."

            "Yeah?" I said, furrowing my eyebrows. "It's pretty rare, Jordan."

            "Yeah, I know," Jordan agreed. "But lately…for about the past two weeks, sometimes I'll hear these words inside my head, and they sound like they're in a different language. I also read that a lot of Wiccan terms are in Gaelic, so I was wondering if I have that, ancestral memory. Not really of spells, but just…Wicca in general. The reason I bring it up now is that it just happened again. Right now, when you were telling me about the crystal."

            I thought about this for a few moments. "Hmm. Interesting. I've never heard of anything like this before. But either you do have ancestral memory, or you're hearing things. What exactly are you hearing? What are the words?"

            "Mùirn beatha dàn."

            My jaw literally dropped open. "Oh. Oh, wow…"

            "What?" Jordan asked. "What did I say? Did I curse you out in Wiccan or something?"

            I laughed. "No, no, you didn't curse me out. It's just…that term? Mùirn beatha dàn? It's a Wiccan term for…" I trailed off for dramatic effect, smirking at Jordan.

            "For what? Come on, spit it out, spit it out!"

            I smiled. "For soul mates."

            Jordan looked at me in surprise. "I'm not saying that it's a huge, definite thing," I said quickly. "I mean, in Wicca there's a belief that everyone has someone who they're meant to be with forever. I mostly thought it was stupid, my whole life." I looked at him, sort of shyly. "But…I don't know. After all we've been through…I'm starting to wonder, maybe it's not so stupid."

            Jordan was solemn, not looking at me. "Soul mates, huh?" My eyes suddenly locked onto his eyes; there was sadness in them.

            "There's something you're not telling me," I accused him slowly. "And that's not witch instinct talking, it's girlfriend instinct."

            Jordan exhaled hard. "Moira…I've made a decision."

            "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"

            "Living with Grams is impossible now," he told me. "She's not gonna accept me being a witch anytime soon."

            "So? My grandparents are terrified of me. I'm the demon grandchild to them. But my mom and they are on good terms. It worked out. It can work out for you, too."

            "Your grandparents and my step grandmother are different people. Your grandparents are worried. Grams blatantly hates Wicca. She either wants me to give it up…or she wants me to leave." My eyes widened. "I asked her where my relatives live. She told me. I have a ticket to La Quinta. Grams told the school I'm leaving."

            I felt like I'd been punched. "You…you're…where's La Quinta?" My voice cracked on the last word.

            Jordan looked away from me. "It's in California."

            I looked away from him, too. "California. I tell you I think we're soul mates, and you tell me you're leaving Widow's Vale for _California."_

"Moira…"

            "No, seriously, could you _get any farther away? China, perhaps? Australia?" My voice sounded oddly high-pitched._

            Jordan gripped my shoulders and twisted me around so I was facing him. "I knew that you'd be upset. I'm upset, too. I wish that it didn't have to be this way. But…I need this, Moira. I need to know about my family. Think of your mother. Don't you think she would have wanted to know her biological mother, if she could? I need to know about my real family, my heritage. _You _don't know what it's like. You've always known who you were and what your family was like. I have no clue who my ancestors were. I need to go." He loosened his grip a little. "My whole life changed in a few days. I just need to get away for a while, figure out who I am. Soul searching, you know?"

            For a few minutes, I was silent. Then I sighed. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry I overreacted. It's just…I wish you didn't have to do this. This all just sucks so much." I blew my bangs away from my eyes and shook my hair back from my face. "So…when are you leaving?"

            "Tomorrow."

            I pushed him off the table. "Tomorrow? You're leaving tomorrow and you're telling me _now?"_

I'm sorry," Jordan said. "I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry." I looked away from him. "Look, I know I made some bad choices. I just want to spend as much time as possible with you now. We still have the rest of today. Let's just make it count, okay?"

            I was silent for a moment. "There is no photography class project, is there? You just wanted an excuse to get a few pictures of this place, of me, so you'll remember."

            Jordan hung his head, defeated. "I'm sorry."

            I looked around the library, where we met. I'd fallen for Jordan so fast. Everything had happened fast. Maybe I was wrong about being soul mates. "Let's just get out of here. Make the best of the day." I slid off the table and walked towards the door. My jaw was set.

            "Moira." Jordan grabbed my arm, and I turned around. His eyes shot through mine, like they always did, like he was looking into my soul. "I love you. Never forget that."

            He kissed me tenderly on the forehead. I started to cry.

*  *  *

            The next day, Jordan and I walked to the train station together silently. He'd take the train into Manhattan, catch a Port Authority bus to the John F. Kennedy airport, and fly to La Quinta, California. I felt as if we were in some old-fashion movie, where the main characters say their final goodbyes on the train station platform. 

            All the way to the station, I kept telling myself, _You will not cry. There is no reason to cry. Jordan has to go find himself in California and you have to get over it. The m__ùi__rn beatha d_à___n idea was stupid. So don't you dare cry._

"So this is it." Jordan said it to himself as much as he said it to me. 

            "When do you think you'll be back?" I asked. I only assumed this wasn't permanent, since all he carried with him was a small duffel bag.

            "I don't know," he told me. 

            "Well, how long did they say you could stay?" Jordan started looking guilty, and my eyes narrowed. "Jordan, they have no idea you're coming, do they?"

            "Everything happened so quickly. I never really thought about that." Jordan looked nervous. He kept running a hand through his hair.

            His right hand started going up, and I grabbed it. He was starting to annoy me with it. "You are coming back, right?" I asked, feeling nervous, too. 

            Jordan nodded. "I promise. I'll be back." He suddenly reached into his back pocket. "I have a gift for you."

            I raised my eyebrows as he handed me a small, black box. I lifted the lid to reveal one of those black, velvet boxes that really fancy jewelry comes in. Jordan watched me carefully as I opened it. My breath caught in my throat. I'd seen this ring before.

            It was a plain, silver ring. Plain except for a design engraved on one part. It was a very detailed engraving, three boxes with letters in two of the boxes, and a plus sign between them. R+J, for Romeo and Juliet—but wait. No. This one was different. It didn't say R+J—it said M+J. Moira and Jordan. I immediately checked the inside of the band, and my eyes threatened to burst into tears when I saw _I love thee _engraved in script there. "This is incredible…it looks just like the one in the movie…" _I'm fourteen, _I suddenly realized. _I'm fourteen, he's sixteen, and we're saying our final goodbyes, and this is insane. We shouldn't have to go through this. We're only kids._

"You know, it's okay to cry," Jordan said gently. I was biting my lips hard to keep from sobbing.

            "How did you get this?" I asked him in a whisper. "When? How? This is impossible."

            "I decided that I was leaving on Wednesday, and I went to the jewelry place and described it and told them it had to be done by yesterday. I picked it up before I met you at school." Jordan took my hand and the ring, and he slid the ring onto my finger. "I figured that you'd like it. You know, since _Romeo and Juliet_ is your favorite movie."

            "This isn't fair," I said, choking on the lump that had formed in my throat. The floodgates went down and tears rolled down my face. "You can't leave. You made me believe in all that mùirn beatha dàn crap, I never believed in it until you. Never. Not even for my own parents. You _can't _leave me." I felt moronic and selfish, standing there in front of Jordan, crying my eyes out, telling him not to go. 

            Jordan drew me into his arms and held me while I sobbed into his shoulder. He kissed my head and smoothed my dark, crimson-streaked hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jordan whispered over and over.

            "Don't say you're sorry. You don't have anything to be sorry for," I told him after a while. "You need to go. You need to find your family. I'm being selfish."

            "It's okay." Jordan held me for a few more minutes. Then he leaned down and kissed me.

            I kissed him back, then stepped back a little. "You have to go now, Jordan. Everyone's getting on the train."

            We held eye contact for a moment. "I love you, Moira."

            "I love you, too…" I was going to start crying again. "Just go, Jordan. It just makes it harder when you keep staying."

            Jordan just looked at me for a moment. Then he picked up his bag and boarded the train. A few minutes later, the doors banged shut, and the train started moving. I stood there on the platform, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring at my reflection in the train windows as it passed by. An angry looking girl, clad in a plaid skirt and a borrowed Ataris hoodie stared back. My dark hair was slightly tossed in the wind, and a red strand blew across my face. I remembered my first kiss, out in the rain with Jordan. Had that only been two weeks ago? It felt like an eternity. Soon the train was gone, and so was Jordan. I stood there for a few minutes, not wanting to move.

            "Hey." I turned around and saw my mother standing a few feet away. She smiled gently at me. "I thought you might want a ride home."

            "In a little while," I told her, looking down the track to where the train had disappeared. Moments later, I felt my mom putting her arms around me, leaning her chin on my shoulder, looking where I was looking.

            "It'll get better," she promised me. I could only nod. We stood there, mother and daughter, silently. Having her there didn't erase the pain completely.

            But it helped.

**[Author's Note]**

Another book finished. I hope you all liked it ^^ Book Three will come in a little while; I try to give myself a little break in between books. Thanks to everyone who reviewed ^___^ Right now I'm gonna take the time to plug my good friend, Sherie's Sweep fan fiction. It's called Tears of Glass, and it has a big plot twist: What if Morgan and Hunter's daughter became evil? Definitely worth checking out.

            Well, that's about it. Later days! **[Katie]**


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